Existential dread, David Bowie’s "Blackstar," cancer, and dark humor collide as I try to make sense of a world that feels increasingly unstable.

I watch your smoky fingers unspool, swirling in the air, spelling your arrival, the way only the dead know how

A gliding flight in Vermont becomes more when a series of small, insistent moments only later reveals their connection to a shocking event. Moving between lived experience and theory, the post traces how synchronicity and precognition unfold through time and creative response.

After a dual diagnosis, I look back on intuition, loss, and a fractured friendship to understand how one painful reconnection may have given me more time.