I am finding myself devoid of  thoughts during this surreal time, of what I really want to say about it. Normally I have such a voice. Sometimes I wake up and I think this must be a film, it can’t be real…. am I in Logan’s run no 3 ? We’re all running and hiding from the virus.

Is something happening that I haven’t been told about ?Do you have to be a special one in the know to know what’s going on… One of the very chosen few that are allowed to live…

and am I one of them???

2 Responses

  1. Your words reminded me of a poem by William Empson: Let it Go:

    It is this deep blankness is the real thing strange.
    The more things happen to you the more you can’t
    Tell or remember even what they were.
    The contradictions cover such a range.
    The talk would talk and go so far aslant.
    You don’t want madhouse and the whole thing there.

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