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The Root System

Diriye Osman

Let me wear the day

Well so when it reaches you

You will enjoy it.


Dear reader,

In response to Sister Sanchez's haiku, I want to ask you: how did you wear your day today? Did you become glamoured — a bewitching vision of yourself — or did the day whittle your soul down to the bone?

I ask about your wellbeing because you, dear reader, are the rock and the shore. You're the person this HTML-coded message in a bottle is intended for. I adore you and I hope you know that each day is an opportunity to dazzle anew. Each day is an opportunity for Fortuna to flex her formidable muscles, and allow us to tilt our faces towards the sun in beatitude.

The quotidian is my root system: the way I navigate the terrifying thickets of my imagination until I have settled into a sphere of peace beyond passion, as Ndegeocello would say.

Communing with my beloveds brings me contentment, whether we're exchanging scuttlebutt, banter, or jokes from Bad Santa as a distraction from the spectre of death that discolours local — and global — life in this mystifying historical moment.

May you always wear the day well, dear reader. May you gleam like the promise of a hundred thousand prayers. May you know reified love, which is to say real love, in its crystalline splendour. May you always move with benignity and backbone and élan.

May you always remember your value, your value, your value.

With love,



A song to root the system: 'Elliptical' by MESHELL NDEGEOCELLO.


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