Self-evidently all our days are numbered, from first to last, but for the badger folk this day is more numbered than most. So, I give you some numbers of the day a la Sesame Street. Today is TA’s thirty-
We talked about the possibility of continuing life in a contemplative cell. The silence and peace of white walls, the comforting confines of restraints. A mercy or an imprisonment? I wish someone could hand down a sentence for me – a monument that could give me meaning to cling to.
Endless, sacred days – is there any kind of irony that isn’t bitter? I wonder when you know your number’s up, since sundown is not an accurate indicator. I wonder when my heart will break, since I never knew it could beat with such steady endurance.