All week it’s been as if a giant lever was dislodging some…



All week it’s been as if a giant lever was dislodging some of the last remaining solidities in my life. Lady Icarus made another run for the sun; my mental and physical health, both precarious, but previously parallel, show signs of intersecting in dangerous ways; a beloved community of more than 20 years is dying; even Paul Schimmel’s firing and Paula Harper’s death feel like part of a storm surge that will carry me even further away from any kind of peace or stability I’ve scrabbled together. Sometimes the difference between drowning and swimming is negligible. Either way everything changes, again.

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