Night drifts into its center without anyone quite realizing it—balance tipped from the light of dusk to the dark swelling up from the ground, streetlights and windows the signs of life, life in darkness, life ignorant and strong. Let these words at least add nothing to others’ suffering. When will the faces that rise to the surface of our screens finally be seen as such? When will we sacrifice something—anything—for the sake of putting some pressure on the wound? George Floyd. Breonna Taylor. Armaud Arbery. Names parade when the body dies, burning like the sun. It was a beautiful day.