When I was 21, I set myself on fire...
Above me, the sun turns my country to a boil.
She says, look.
The world is ending.
The bridges are unbuilding themselves.
The presumed quiet of isolation was replaced by withdrawal shakes—like being five coffees deep in a morass of meme-culture doom-scrolling. I found myself engaging far too many headlines and far too few books. At some point I asked myself: What from this noisy world do I want to fill myself with? What can I do to amplify voices of insight, beauty, reason?
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