Most people I know live their lives moving in a constant forward direction, the whole time looking backward.

Desire is suffering. A simple equation, and a nice catchphrase. But flipped around, it is more troubling: suffering is desire.

You can just sit in here, impervious and invisible. So invisible you might even forget yourself.

Whatever the reason, first place was always Solo, always, always, always, and second place was usually Chewbacca, because if you weren't the one saving the galaxy, you might as well be eight feet tall and covered with hair.

Maybe we spend most of our decades being someone else, avoiding ourselves, maybe a man is only himself, his true self, for a few days in his entire life.

There is a sense in which I am pretty sure this makes no sense. I don't know where this is going. I don't know how it ends.

You can only go to places that you will let yourself go.