You are loud today, world.
This is not a week when I can even try to defy you, blot you out or forget you.
There is no muffling the parts of your voice that shriek at me not to write. That tell me it won’t matter, that any story I tell is unimportant. That thinking about the projects I cherish is shallow and self-absorbed.
You are here in the room with me, humming and babbling and singing.
So get comfortable.
I have found extra chairs.
Sit here, pandemic.
Read over my shoulder, climate change.
Correct my spelling, cruelty. Play with my paper clips, ignorance. Have a mint, fear.
Let us write together.