Have you ever been behind the wheel, headed to a specific destination, and, once you arrive, you can’t recall getting there?
Have you ever driven down familiar streets, streets you know as well as the back of your hand, and yet you don’t remember anything you see?
I’m not talking about getting older here, friends. I’m talking about change. About how sometimes, in the middle of your own metamorphosis, your surroundings – though familiar – become unrecognizable.
The view out my front window hasn’t changed, yet it seems odd.
There are cracks in the cocoon…