I am on Friday, but the world is on Saturday. Let us not argue over it.

This evening we danced. I mean "we" as a collective "we," rather than a shortened "you and I." I realize that this is solemnity, though not loneliness. This is detachment, though not isolation. The seasons are changing and the days grow colder and eat up the warm ones, and soon the summer is outnumbered by infinite dehydrated brown leaves. When the color leaves- no, exits- our faces, we are whiter, sometimes sallow. I mean "we" as a collective "we." Not a "you and I." Do not take this as fact, but consider it as truth.