Rise and shine, friends.
The year died and then breathed again - like I, phoenix rising, baggage clearing. Plane almost landed. Soft or hard, bring it on. Night darkest before dawn indeed, let that dawn on you as your mind's sun awakens again, please. The year is waxing. That ain't a warning. Quite the opposite - not taxing. That proposition's simmering in your cranium, the crowd in your frontal lobe stadium roaring, the flow state waters pouring again. Rise and shine, friends.
Surprisingly Utopian
I dreamt last night it was the year 2100.
The paradigm in medicine was that the human body is essentially a software program - the molecules comprising it are code. Every software program has bugs - elements of the code that result in the user experience not working as intended. "Disease," in this new paradigm, was simple a bug in the code. Every bug is fixable. For every problem there is an equal and opposite solution.
In this hyper-advanced, surprisingly utopian future, in which I found myself an "old" man, disease was a thing of the past - including the disease that we used to call "aging."