I wonder if your soul is still dispossessed

[sovay]

This was a strange Rosh Hashanah and it feels like a stranger Yom Kippur. Last year it was the eve of my birthday, which I would spend at two different museums before meeting my family after sunset for break-fast. This year I lit the yahrzeit candle we bought six months ago when we were what we then called apocalypse-shopping: it burns for the dead whose names we remember, whose names we don't know. Year after year now, I return to the story of the prayer and the fire and the place in the forest, because all we can do these days is tell the story; it has to be enough. And if it isn't, we tell it anyway.

Comments

This doesn't feel like a real year at all.

[kathmandu]

This feels like the wrong timeline, or the part of the TV show before the main character wakes up and realizes it was all coma-dreams.

I'm not even having a birthday this year. As far as I'm concerned this is March Day 211.* I can have two next year, or whenever we finally get back to real time.

*My birthday is not in March.

[alexxkay]

all we can do these days is tell the story; it has to be enough. And if it isn't, we tell it anyway.

"It's a sad song (It's a sad song!) / It's a sad tale, it's a tragedy / It's a sad song (It's a sad song!) / We're gonna sing it anyway"

[asakiyume]

And if it isn't, we tell it anyway --Yes.