In general, I almost always watch foreign films.

This is not a full circle. It's life carrying on. It's the next breath we all take. It's the choice we make to get on with it.

The rains are rhythmic, coming religiously in the afternoons (after lunch has been eaten but before tea, so that the nights are washed clean-black with bright pinpoints of silver starlight hanging over a restless, grateful earth).

In ways I don't entirely have the words for an experience, thought or a lesson isn't real for me until I've written down.

Surely until all of us own and honor one another's dead, until we have admitted to our murders and forgiven one another and ourselves for what we have done, there can be no truce, no dignity and no peace.

You can't rewind war. It spools on, and on, and on, looping and jumping, distorted and cracked with age, and the stories contract until only the nuggets of hatred remain and no one can even remember, or imagine, why the war was organized in the first place.

I listen mostly to classical music.