The sky was incredibly far away, and beautiful enough to make a person wonder why our hearts are never so free.

What was important wasn't the fireworks, it was that we were together this evening, together in this place, looking up into the sky at the same time.

I was happy. I loved the night, I loved t so much it almost hurt. In the night everything seemed possible. I wasn't sleepy at all.

But I have my life, I’m living it. It’s twisted, exhausting, uncertain, and full of guilt, but nonetheless, there’s something there.

Good tea is eloquent enough, it turns out, to change a person's mind.

Living like that utterly convinced me of the extreme limitations of language. I was just a chlld then,so I have only an intuitive understanding of the degree to which one losses control of words once they are spoken or written. It was then that I first felt a deep curiosity about language, and understood it as a tool that encompasses both a single moment and eternity

I spent most of my time thinking, because I didn't have enough energy to do anything else.