Life is full of strangers who are equal to the task of absence. The holes they climb out of are inside other holes: some light, some dark. My past wants to live on longer than the past that preceded it. The latter had only stones, papyrus, and what I have is far more difficult to imagine time obliterating. Fortified with data we imagine time better now. As though our present contains all the things that dilate into ordinary miracles: the synaptic uptake, the electronic pleats between history and stars and coronaries that dethrone their hearts. If we disappear we will not disappear in the same measure that disappeared those before us. We will come close to Armageddon but forgive God. I will interview the dying, archive them to speak from beyond the grave. They will be all of our dying. Our only chance to dominate strangers. Our strangers who are welcome to enter us. As day enters night.
Photo courtesy of Steve Double
