Turns On The Radio

I leave for New York in the morning. Moving across the sky from one sprawling mass of concrete to another. Sometimes it feels like a science fiction novel, where life takes place in transporter systems and little glass cubicles in the sky. Human contact is entirely missing a context and somewhere along the lines it just stops making sense.

I feel like it’s in my power, or it should be within my power, to make it start making sense again. To fix what’s been broken feels like an urgent task – all that is mission, but can I accomplish it? It seems like such a reasonable goal…

Something can be done about everything.