We plan for departures.
We plan for departures, push limits and miss flights to deny all necessary goodbyes. We push back arrival times as well, trying to anticipate that the world will not meet our expectations we amend them to more realistic expectations, which the world will still not meet. Perhaps the answer to this is to panic sooner, longer, would this make life fall into place faster? We have not yet developed the skills necessary not to panic at all, not to let the too big world become great and overwhelming on its face, like the face of the moon slipping out of its orbit to roll against the earth. There is a short story about this, a story started from a dream in the mind of a friend. She will tell us to write about nothing less than everything, make small fictions about the universe — because why say anything large about anything smaller? Why say anything less about anything more? Or anything more about anything less? We are afraid if we zoom in we will be unable to zoom out, our five senses continually narrowing their focus until the details of what lies outside our interest are lost in the flood of other. We are afraid to cross anything out, this small nothing might be too important to lose. We try to keep our options open, keep our vision focused on everything, but we lose what these words cannot cover, what these sounds forget.