John F. Duffy

“We wake up every morning thinking that the day we're about to live is going to be one kind of way. Like the days before it. One to shuffle in with all the rest. When we look back at our lives and all the things that we've done, there's a sad realization hat most days are entirely wiped from our memories. We know those days must have happened or else we wouldn't be where we are, but the substance of them is gone. Of a lifetime of conversations, only the sentiments remain. Specificity eroded down to a nub of ambiguity. On inspection, whole years are nothing but a vague sense built out of the moments that lasted. The moments that made a deeper imprint. Occasionally, the truly spectacular, but more often, the deeply embarrassing. The tragic. Then without realizing we invent material to fill the gaps. Words never said and actions never taken to add flourish or valor or meaning where likely there was none. Even my two years working at Saladas. Most of it is gone. Washed away by the repetition of it all.”
― John F. Duffy, Where When It Rains