A Break in the Rain
The new morning dawns slow and wet. Everything falls into place, and we intend to trespass unashamed. Whatever laws were written long ago that allowed the illusion of land ownership to the exclusion of free movement, must have their roots in a time and place that no longer belong to humans, and today belongs to humanity.
The laws are monetary. The haves and the have nots. They may own the profit margins, but those don’t exist in the real world. They’re just abstracts that play out in the exchange of blood in a suffocated brain behind the desk of a thousand pressing decisions to avoid all that matters. They can have their monies. We can have their waves.
All the while, the day grows darker, and nothing dry is left. The patient endurance of coldness has won, and now even what’s right is wrong. The hillsides shake in the fury of another Pacific storm. Nothing can be done now but surrender beneath the weight of it all. This is what it is to be human.
