It was a new website I hadn’t heard about – they don’t punish you for using big words, like Twitter does, and I liked that. It was an opportunity to say something nice, something evocative, or just to capture an otherwise humdrum Monday afternoon.

For that short moment, it was peaceful and fresh, like a foggy early morning walk in the city, where you smile at people you pass because they’re sharing the quiet with you. Soon, precious 16-year-olds would post pictures of their shoes on the beach and misuse they’re/their/there. And people like me would grow cynical again and use it only to comment on shitty things that happen to them. But right then, I liked the idea and typed my real name in, for just a second, because it felt right.

Maybe this time. Maybe.