the collector

Portugal is burning. Mitteleuropa is under water. Antarctica is melting. Here rain seems like a thing of the past ... when some drops fell yesterday they felt like a memory. In my youth (!) (actually, I never grew up) I used to long for some apocalypse to relieve the tedium (if was probably not true ennui, rather, glandular pressure) but now - I wish - sometimes - for the bland certainties of those earlier decades. Except I know that, then as now, we were mortgaging the future. Who will collect?

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