i keep thinking about refugees. where they go. the united states of war invade and occupy and extract and terrorize and more and more refugees seek refuge and are refused. 
i watched fire at sea and saw people from all over the unlimited war zone land on lampedusa, the boats so loaded the living had to be disentangled from the dead.
i think of my little head and my personal depression. i think of the luck of having a little refuge in my depressed head. 

                                                                        ***

In my own experience, the most withering aspect of depression is the way it erases, like physical illness does, the memory of wellness. The totality of the erasure sweeps away the elemental belief that another state of being is at all possible — the sensorial memory of what it was like to feel any other way vanishes, until your entire being contracts into the state of what is, unfathoming of what has been, can be, and will be.     -maria popova