it is the end: the end of the frustrations of humanity, perhaps a beginning;
and looking upon the wealth of what they could be,
perhaps they, for once, in the moment, can see themselves:

I put down the pen in disgust. I know, full well, that I can't write anything about this moment, this crossroads of humanity: it's like trying to describe how a bird flies. Yes, it's a new millenium (well, in a year at least, technically); but, I wonder, could it be any different from the last? Could we stop worrying so much about ourselves, and start to care about the world? 

I look down at the beauty of the lights of Boston, and hope so. It's my birthday in two days, after all.

2000. The thought still didn't register in my mind. So I hope my friends on #boston are doing well this night. And I turn to look at the stars. Quite beautiful tonight. Though the rumbling in the distance annoys me. Hope the airplane will fly over soon, and leave me in silence. To write.