It is not a person’s depth you must discover, but their ascent. Find their path from depth to ascent.

The truth doesn't care what we think of it.

When a man dies, his secrets bond like crystals, like frost on a window. His last breath obscures the glass.

When you are alone - at sea, in the polar dark - an absence can keep you alive. The one you love maintains your mind. But when she's merely across the city, this is an absence that eats you to the bone.

Like other ghosts, she whispers; not for me to join her, but so that, when I'm close enough, she can push me back into the world.

Trees for example, carry the memory of rainfal. In their rings we read ancient weather - storms, sunlight and temperatures, the growing seasons of centuries. A forest shares a history which each tree remembers even after it has been felled.

Any given moment - no matter how casual, how ordinary - is poised, full of gaping life.