Lately I’ve been torn between the possibilities of fiction—and the mental reprieve it affords—versus my compulsion to record each day’s events and thoughts in this nightly journal. I’d like to find a way to synthesize these energies. Seems like this should be possible, given that each day’s headlines read more and more like an unbelievable novel.

Each night in 2020, I wrote a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I wanted to etch these days into my memory. Before the world changed completely.
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July 14, 2020

Remembrance

There’s a strange dynamic to this nightly journal, this sensation of writing against time. Or more precisely: writing for myself in the future.
May 6, 2020

Horizon

It’s becoming a nightly habit: scrolling through desert scenery while fantasizing about horizons, speed, and possibilities.
December 31, 2020

End

The end of the year leaves me feeling as if I'm supposed to be reflective; I find myself hunting for revelations that never arrive.
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