Sync: A prose

I

Life, time, and people bump with us or us with them for reasons we may not know. They play around, making us believe that we need to rush when we should enjoy our time here with our family, friends, long-distance lover, the dawn, the dogs, the brown coffee, the plant sitting on our small table, the pilling books, good music and more.

II

Oh, what a time to be alive, to love, to ask and to know. What a glorious incidence to enjoy your own silence, the emptiness of the dark sky before work, rushing people, and the time-bound, output-based day begins.

III

To sit down, feel the paper against my hand, filled-up heart, the small gifts of life, the sync beyond online drives. For once, there's no need to fear your computer's crashing. For once, this is everything.

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Journal, 15th of March, 2021