One moment they were there in the millions. And then they were gone.
And it shocks you, the natural way in which they are all there one day.
And it dismays you, the same way they are all gone another day.
The naturalness with which life goes on without marvel and wonder; the ease into which we move toward the next thing. The ease with which we forget we ever lived another life or ever covered up for winter. The frightening ease of not knowing summer’s swelter in February, or the insouciance of not remembering the bitterness of November when April opens its eyes.