The Twilight Zone of Proximal Development
Well for one thing, dear girl, stop this trying to figure it
more curse or opportunity, some camouflaged propitiousness
pinned under a heap of still-spurting volcanic spasms, this being
stuck, daily, contending, this inescapable, this trap that’s had you
imagining the likes of gods and offenses against them, or
whatever other cluster of the set of all anythings you can mind,
rather than openly embrace: here and gone, far, lost.