December 25

Today is a difficult day, but not because of my isolation. Today is difficult in the sense that the world itself has shut down, and I do not celebrate Christmas, so the small grounding habits where I briefly enter the world at sunrise and sunset are gone.

As I write this, I sit at my small desk. Next to me is a window, overlooking countless skyscrapers and dense urban buildings.

Somewhat behind the skyscrapers is a trail of clouds, each cloud a heavenly violet blue with streaks of bleached gold adorning their crowns.

As I write this, I watch the clouds slowly roll past the world below them, completely indifferent to the human affairs they overshadow.

I started to cry, because I could only see the beauty of equal parts suffering and joy. The clouds their mediators.

This world is joyously indifferent.