I let the day escalate into fantasies about controlling the media, striking back, and deciding who deserves mercy, then kept wobbling between aggression and attempts to pull myself back.

I let tiny choices and visual details take over the day while the bigger background was still hunger, heat, exhaustion, and fantasies of leaving for somewhere cleaner and more ordered.

I closed the day with Aitken and Dialog pressure, low-battery frustration, family strain, cake jokes, old-video laughter, and the feeling that work, memory, and self-control were all still hanging together by improvisation.