They had lost this and returned to their lives, this was a brief sojourn from the harshness of reality. The coffee, the clack of keys on the computer, memo after memo going out into the ether. They went back to being caught up in the minutiae, sharing these with each other than sharing what really mattered. What was it that really mattered though?
There was an abstractness to it all, their love, the day to day grind, the general ins and outs of what people do forever and always. In the moment it seems so clear and purposeful, as though this is what each person should be doing, yet, when it is looked back on these things swirl into crush of jagged lines and whirls. Memories, gas like of a coffee shop encounter, an emotion, a sales lady, the religion of the greater world. Insects and medication, typography and communication all becoming a part of the forgotten tapestry of a history. Thousands of lives never remembered and a thousand more. What is important about one person or two? What can they do that is special other than find happiness.
