People are always separable.

But whether or not you are here, you are here—because these words are for you, and they wouldn't exist if you weren't here in some way.

That whole week, we started to divide things into those two categories: anything or something. A piece of jewelry bougth at a department store: anything. A piece of jewelry made by hand: something. A dollar: anything. A sand dollar: something. A gift certificate: anything. An IOU for two hours of starwatching: something. A drunk kiss at a party: anything. A sober kiss alone in a park: something.

Deep down, you see, I long to be arcane, esoteric. I would love to confound people with their own language.

I was sixteen and equipped with the appropriate genitalia, so I cleared that hurdle nicely.

But death is not freedom. For a moment, it can look like freedom. But then it's death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

Once time is lit, it will burn whether or not you're breathing it in. Even after smoke becomes air, there is the memory of smoke. I am seeing as if by the light of a match, a glimpse of my life and having it feel right.