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 times into my memory. Before the world changed completely.
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