The innate problem with analysing the year gone by, is that time itself is only a convenient construct to understand the passage of our lives. Life can hardly make sense, divided into cold buckets of time, each striving to be better than its predecessor.
A rough year?
Well, Marcus, I think in the end, profundity, inaneness, emotional highs and lows will even out across various chunks of time. It is just mathematics, isn’t it?
And yet the years fall like dominoes and I’m not sure that’s the game we’re playing.
rising for the encore
the sun sets
once more tonight