Thursday, February 8, 2024

The old streets, the old faces, the old conversations, the old ways of being known to others

It happens when you feel the other parenthesis, the one at the end, as it presses your skin, wraps itself around your chest like a tightening belt. You can still breathe, but not as well. You can still sing, but not with the notes you could hit before. You can still spit, but life has moved past the spitting stage. It’s when things fail to return to normal, that finally you get it: this is normal.

Gary Indiana, “Five O’Clock Somewhere” in the latest issue of Granta.

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Maira Gall