You have a plethora of metaphors to pick from when describing these early days of 2025. January is a phoenix rising from the ashes; a butterfly wriggling free of its chrysalis. If you like, picture a bouncing baby New Year in your arms, powder fresh. The images all amount to the same thing: January is a time to (metaphorically) turn the page. But during a week of tragedy and chaos that doesn't necessarily bode well for new beginnings, I've been thinking instead about December and the figurative language we use to describe the close of the year'the kind that focuses on death and decay. The days smolder and are snuffed out; the old man of 2024 grows frail and creaky, and he shuffles to his grave. My thoughts might be lingering on endings more than usual because the year 2025 feels surreal. We've advanced beyond the far-off futures of Neon Genesis Evangelion's rebuilt 2015 Tokyo; Blade Runner's cyberpunk 2019 Los Angeles; Star Trek's paradigm-shifting 2024 Bell Riots in San Francisco;...
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