Thought.is

You continue to move through space. A baby in Montevideo wakes up and cries. A cow in Birmingham is slaughtered. We all keep moving. We only stop once.

While he had worked at the lines, I closed my eyes and focused intently on the pain. It crept from around corners and bit me at random. They were really nibbles, though, and the vibrations warmed my neck and face. I cherished the pain. Not as a masochist might, but rather in the way that a mother cherishes the pains that bring her a child.

We can’t sit still. And that’s okay, because when we hang out, we all warm our laps with little boxes wearing glowing fruit. Videos of animals in their infancy are there to fill the sagging space where conversation used to reside. We really need never look each other in the eye, unless we’re doing Facetime.