kingtycoon | Technological advance is an inherently iterative process.

The thaw is over, gone like the autumn and it seems as if there was a whole hidden little season in those days. Where the sidewalks were walkable and the wind showed a vague touch of mercy. As if it had grown bored of harming us, it gusted only gently, to see if we would be thankful. And we were. A tiny season between the snows, and now it is gone. This is a hard matter now, something that doesn't settle well between the teeth, something that struggles against muscle and bone.

Before... Before there was that thing to consider, the looked for respite, the next and best moment, the achievement or the dawn. Now - there's just the cold again and no sense that it will abate, that Spring will come or bring flowers with it. There is no looked for thing upon the horizon, only Winter settling down upon us again.

I needed that bright thing on the edge of perception, the warming thought only days away or weeks, something to calculate a distance to. First this day, and then this, and then I will be there, it will be warm, I will rest. Now that's over, and the past remains foreign and unattainable, beyond grasp and memories serve to teach but not to incite hope.

The thaw came and it was not enough. Now the Winter reaches out over the sky again, to dash apart all sense that we might be whole or safe.

But, not to despair, only to settle into the ache of it again and be crushed by familiar things.