Ah, rebirth. She has a knack for sauntering into the party unannounced + uninvited, angling that godforsaken mirror to reveal all we did our darnedest to overlook. She is promise of a thousand new worlds, and where certainty goes to die. She is beautiful + bountiful.

But before that, she is compost.

As the freight train of twenty-twenty gains steady momentum towards the finale of what can only be described as a spectacular fiasco, it would be almost rude not to give a standing ovation. It has been a hell of a show.