There are two kinds of emergencies — the one immediately in front of you, and the invisibly delayed unknown ticking time bomb. You work through the one in the present, and rather than avoid or ignore the possibility of the second, attempt to suss out the when and the where amidst the darkness of the future that will suffuse light between the measures.
But writing in aphorisms might be a third kind of emergency, a mayday in search of a lighthouse.
