We are halfway through.
The middle of a contradictory year.
She has only just begun; she has taken her sweet time; she is over; she has flown.
Slow and quick, and not in turn - one after the other - but all at once. A moment is a century is a second, and then it ends: the anticlimactic collapse of a monumental, undefinable thing.
It fooled us again, didn't it?
An exhausting whirlwind.
A steady build-up.
The thoughts in your head are too many to keep.
A grasp to retain, a longing to release.
This frantic, happy, despairing, hope.
You realize, as if by accident,That something at the very core of you has been neglected.