Some of us are afraid of empty white boxes.
Some of us are afraid of boxes that once were empty but now have been prefilled with all kinds of stuff. Appliances, old CDs, art from ex-lovers, cables for electronics that have long since left the earth, mismatched gloves and/or mismatched socks, metadata.
Some of us like to keep a gratitude journal.
Some of us prefer to wallow in hurt, embitterment and resentment.
Some of us see the expansiveness of the universe.
Some us see a world that once was expansive but is now closing in on us faster than we can ever imagine and fell helpless to slow it down to a reasonable pace.
Some of us are attuned to connections and interconnections.
Some of us live in a state of panic as we watch connections and interconnections float away, just out of grasp.
Some of us stare at fish.
Some of us are embarrassed to be caught staring by the fish we are staring at.
Some of us are people of action
Some of us are people who wait for action to come to us.
Some of us are convinced that waiting is an action in itself.
Some of us are tired of waiting, but do our best to ignore it, to brush it under the rug.
Some of us prefer to nap on a memory foam mattress
Some of us prefer to nap on the memoryless tile of the bathroom floor
Some of us wonder what this place is called… this place between napping and not napping. This place between foam and tile. This place between memory and non-memory.
Some of us believe that language is overrated.