24 Hours and the Letter R

Vulnerability is not a common theme on this site, but it is sounding like an incessant gong 24 hours after the parting at West Portal and words that should have been iterated in 2001 are aching to be released. In 24 or maybe 12 or less hours this will all subside. At the moment, however, the uneasy bliss of a September morning early in the current century screams like a siren that longs to be chased. The distance between two enormous slices of loss is not protein but an enormous vacuum that leads into an abyss not yet worthy of glimpsing. My hands reach heaven-ward and touch la Belle Epoque, and then my arms cross in lingering disdain. The time for change approaches. It is enormous and inevitable. Sorry for this diversion. I promise to be silly and vapid come Monday morning.