“I do not know to what extent the man was real – whether truly an inky-black, thin-shaped spirit with a black hat that he would tip in irony and dark humor – or if he was just the amalgamation of fragments of experience that my mind put together to represent all the ill will of/inside humans that I’d been feeling.
Like the tarry cancer that fills lungs of those people who were smoking. That sense of “wrong” that never goes right despite all the efforts we’re doing.
Does he haunt me still? Is that why my life never seems to be getting better?
I keep trudging forward against the odds, creating sunbeams in absence of the sun – only barely rebooting when it shines upon me. And when darkness descends again, I come undone.”
Candid Corvid Productions 