moving on.

wrapping a material life in obituaries puts perspective into how things could always be more definite.

at times like these, i can be obstinate in thinking that causally explanatory traces can and must be found before turning pages in my own life. the sort of stories that make sense, have culprits, actions that lead to reactions and a sense that folds neatly into boxes.

my perseverance in trying to find meaningful paths unfolds as an almost infinite understanding that slowly eats me inside leaving behind an echo of a motion fueled only by caring and worrying. overwhelmed, things shut down around my little universe only to whisper in muddled thumps as if reminding me that there is a world outside my preoccupation.

nevertheless, in order to move on, i am trying to learn to live by the surrealism i so dearly embrace otherwise. letting the crickets walk on empty plates.

it takes an eternity to fill a box after box.

it is a relief to realize that unwrapping feels – if only ever so slightly – less of an ordeal.

it all takes time.