fraught, adj. Does every “I love you” deserve an “I love you too”? Does every kiss deserve a kiss back? Does every night deserve to be spent on a lover? If the answer to any of these is “No,” what do we do?

His books are kept on freestanding shelves hung at different angles on a sea-green wall. They defy gravity, as good books should.

My lines all curve. I tend to connect the wrong dots.

I hope suffering don't exist.

It's almost heartening to think that the attachment you have can define your perception as much as any other influence.

Maybe language is kind, giving us these double meanings. Maybe it's trying to teach us a lesson, that we can always be two things at once.

Most people, I've noticed, are instinctively harsh to strangers. They expect every approach to be an attack, every question to be an interruption.