For months we didn’t have the internet. Then, in December, facing daily updates from coffee-houses and library computers, I caved.
The silences that I rely on cannot be located when there is no silence in my head.
It is not impossible to write.
The internet does not do anything. I am the one who is there.
There is a maliciousness to convenience. In recent days I have discovered that evil and neglect come from inaction.
Ease is subtle and disrupting.
The devil is persuasive, passive, efficient.