Splendid snow coats the corona covered earth. Winter 2021. Soapy memoirs of digital vices and their pet humans line the lime scented shelves of my library. The world of my youth was passing away in front of me, eyes bulging while society choked. In the cold knowledge of the coming crisis of systemic arson, I shiver in my shift and long for a lost year. Reading by the light of my daughter’s smoldering future, I study the science of bridal preparations.
