I’m thinking a lot about dead people today. Mostly, I think about how many people have come before me, and how many will come after, and how every single one of them will die, and maybe people remember them and maybe they don’t, for good reasons and bad, and there’s tragedy in that.

There’s tragedy in loss, but there’s also tragedy living a life in mourning.

It can feel like a whirlwind, like a pit, like a maelstrom rising out of the earth below your feet.

And yet, we still must live. It’s a wonder anything survives, for any length of time. The only joy is in childhood.

Target: 1500 words
Written: 1504 words, short story: Skeleton Park

Read: The Shooting Party, Anton Chekhov
Comics: Fables: The Wolf Among Us 21-24
Music: 23 Live Sex Acts, Against Me!