Reassembly

After AfrikaBurn I stopped understanding where I was going.

I got lost — but not on the highway. Life, which only yesterday had looked like a route (there’s work, there’s a goal, there’s a direction), blurred, as if someone had knocked the focus on the lens: the set pieces stayed in place, but the outlines became soft and unreadable. When people say “bad,” they mean it hurts, but at least is clear; here it neither hurt nor was clear — who I was, what I was doing, what for.