It's the way you say thank you like you're genuinely thankful. I have never met anyone else who does that on a regular basis.

Gone is not forgotten, but our lives cannot be a memorial. This city cannot be a memorial. This city has to be a city. Our lives have to be our lives.

We all contain mysteries, especially when seen from the inside.

Because what's the point of something virtual if it doesn't end up being real?

It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

I was starting to think I was making up memories, just to have answers. Our brain does that sometimes. Or at least mine does.

I'm swimming in your cadences that you permeate my very language.