“So why did you do it at all?” he asks.
I never expected it to work in the first place, is what I’ve just got done saying to him. That’s why he asked me the question. And now I don’t know what to say.
I didn’t have any hope for it. I think the last time I had hope, back then and before back then, even growing up, hope about anything at all, was . . . no. I’m not sure I ever had any. I don’t remember it if I did. But I don’t say that out loud.
It’s thirty years on, now. 2037. I’m sixty-six years old — not an old man but hardly a young one. You’d think I’d have an answer to this question my friend has just asked me.
Why did I join the blogosphere?