Last night I dreamt about a god who was angry because the noise of humanity prevented him from sleeping. This dream followed me into the vacant streets today, a city shuttered and hushed with only the occasional masked figure. For a moment I stood in the middle of First Avenue, losing the line between reality and dream.
A damp April day, the sky paper blank. Sixteen million people have filed for unemployment yet the stock market is rising. We’ve built such a senseless hall of mirrors. If this pandemic doesn’t restore our senses, what will it take?
M83 – Noise
From Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts | Gooom, 2003 | More
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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