Despite its questionable attribution and word order, “The price of liberty is eternal vigilance” has been stuck in my head for years. It haunts me; when I pause to consider it, I am overwhelmed by feelings of existential angst and exhaustion.
I told Nick nothing new here. I was mostly just talking to myself, to be witnessed by him in the future. He’s had all of these thoughts before anyway, and we’ve had the conversations. This postcard is a little like barfing a ghost onto paper, if that makes sense.