Cough

The temperature plummets, and the old radiators get to work, you apartment is at once freezing and scalding hot, it is the way it has always been, is there not comfort in predictability? Your lungs turn themselves inside out, some new ailment caught in the cross breeze, you feel it creep into your body like ink diluted in a water glass, soon it will be in your every detail. Just like the devil.

The world is on fire, it's too hard to close your mind to that and look only to your own work, too hard to pretend it doesn't eat you from the inside. 

And perhaps that is the point. 

We're not meant to pretend the world isn't falling apart around us. 

We're meant to see it
and let it make us work that much harder
to fix what we can.