capsule

I write to you now hunched over a typewriter in a basement of a suburban home on planet Earth. I can tell you that parents still tuck their children in with a kiss and feeling still spills from the pens of poets - elderly given priority on transit and bread lines. I can say that thought remains given to those abused and neglected in the name of the whole but marches end prematurely - musicians continue to search for that note - practitioners still heal. If you find this, I want you to know that sunsets and Autumns are cherished and craftsmen still toast their creations. Don't worry nor feel shame - enough hands have been joined.