It’s like waking up to find a dream edging away from your consciousness, this remembering.
(What she thought, sitting there in light and listening to birds and distant traffic, the occasional plane and its atmospheric rush. Sometimes she wonders if she’s forgetting what it’s like to be human and alone, away from the whispers and vibrations of technology rampant.)
It’s like the day when adulthood jigsaws life into something foreign to the simple configurations of childhood. The addition of color to monochrome. Invasive species. Crossing oceans.
(She wonders why she wakes up every day to a world full of lost things, their ghosts preserved on screens, in glass cases, in a fading collective memory.)
It’s like we never belonged here in the first place.