When circumstances dip into dark, I still hesitate to call it hard times.
Although it most certainly is that, one must look upon it with a little charity. A pity for one’s own inability to bend circumstance to will.
Not hard times, no. Uncertain times. For to call it this allows for an imaginative reworking of the idea. It awakens the desire to affect the churning of fate. It removes finality, and it replaces it with awkward promise.
These are not hard times, not as it is known. These are uncertain times. For it is neither glorious, nor is it completely desperate.