I think I need help. The heaviness, the ginourmess angst that accompanies all of the Black News I’m reading and hearing these days is weighing on me. I can’t just carry it around in my handbag, now, can I? I’m trying to find some compartment of my soul to file it away in.
I Found this quote from Vladmir Pecherin oddly comforting:
"How sweet it is to hate one’s native land and avidly desire its ruin – and in its ruin to discern the dawn of universal rebirth."
And, no, I’m not drinking. It’s 9:30 in the morning. No Ha.