Hello old friend,
It is the New Year and with it such a collective hysteria and obsession with the “passing of time” that it is impossible for me to not be gripped with jarring existential dread that approaches me, even as I write, along the terminator; that dividing between the day and the night.
Even as I attempt to ignore it, the collective projection of a society so enamoured with this system of days is impossible to ignore. And thus, in my delicate state, it it infringes upon me and indeed unsettles the subtle waters of my very psyche.
I will think of you tonight, old friend, as the twilight passes over.
— Letters from an Unknown Collection (4223)