Listen to the mechanical hum as it synchs, harmonious, with some internal register.
---Things can be complex and murky and inconclusive. Characters can embody different assurednesses and butt heads on them. Writing is something to fight for every day, it is unclear and right, like falling in love.
---She is tired and alcoholic, beautiful and unbroken, though many poor men in gangs leer at her from booming trucks, doorways, and convenience stores. (Vultures of feminine vitality, there are many versions of that.)
---Sometimes the blades of inequality swing too fast and deep for any of us close in contact to survive them. Some of us cope with familial structures and rules of the neighborhood, eyes and ears on our young vulnerable loved ones. Some of us still encounter that poverty for whatever reason, and it is through our own wits and luck that we survive.
---The weight of unfed bodies unlinked from the systems they depend on will not be pretty, and cities will be awful places to be as the resources dwindle.