NYT Magazine
My little world is certainly in a chaotic state this morning. Everything in it is broke, including me.
The only thing that is working is the Times (referenced about) but I know few are reading that.
What can I say about me? I wish I knew.
I am surrounded by so much stuff, I can hardly tell what in that mess is me.
But saying that is saying something.
The end of the world is such, that we can say nothing about it.
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