Bullet Journal

I found my old bullet journal,
a piece of ephemera,
a memory of epithets,
a memory of the before-times,
before Covid,
before HRT,
before her,
dots of concerts, coffee, long-forgotten interviews and dates,
(sometimes)
with the
future log
ending on February 2020.
How appropriate,
how predictive of me,
to end my plans right before
the great pause
and to leave the rest of the pages
blank.