In between lockdowns and second-guessing every cough, something strange happened. We learned to love differently. Not the grand, cinematic kind — no airport dashes or rain-soaked confessions. But love in the margins. Love as survival.
Here’s a draft for a blog post titled — written in a reflective, poetic, slightly melancholic style, as if looking back from a near future. Title: love at the end of the world -2021- love at the end of the world -2021-
That was the thing about 2021. We stopped saving love for later. Later felt like a lie. So we loved in grocery store parking lots, through masks and bad Wi-Fi, in arguments about vaccine appointments and who left the window open. But love in the margins
— for everyone who loved through the static Title: love at the end of the world
But it holds on.
And maybe that’s enough.