OF A GOLDEN AGE

this american life this week is a rerun about dying words. all of this makes me wonder, if i died today and people looked in on what my life is, what would they think? what would seem consistent with the way i am, and what might come as a total surprise? we rely on our intuition to give us a real sense of what people are, because otherwise, my existence could be boiled down to a messy, colorful room and the half-formed resume of a twenty year old. thank god for intuition. and thank god for messy, colorful rooms.

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