Down the rabbit hole.
The news, from here, from there, even creeps into your phone.
Creeps in, just like you like it to.
Rebelling.
Instead of paralysis.
Laundry.
Baked a cake.
Instead of listening over and over and over again.
Listen until you believe it is real.
Tonight I went way back.
Summer nights, when everything was new.
Everything was real.
I have made the digital news wren spit out songs of my youth instead.
Memories flood back in great chunks.
My personal rabbit hole.
Full of joy.
And I don’t know why it is so hard to do.
But Oh, Oh it is.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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