post-crisis

Feeling better, still unbelievably depressed, brain still scattered. Read a little. Copied out a poem. Took some notes. Broke my rotting routine at least. I remember now. This is the poem I read out once in a voice call. At first I thought it was another one. Neruda Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, 'The night is starry and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.'…