But I'd do it again. I know that now. I'd make that promise a thousand times over and lose her a thousand times over to have heard her play last night or to see her in the morning sunlight. Or even without that. Just to know that she's somewhere out there. Alive.

(P)eople’s good intentions can wind up putting us in boxes as confining as coffins.

I am adrenaline slammed into inertia: a fast car stuck in traffic.

I want to make her cry and then lick up the tears.

It feels like the city is telling secrets down here, privy only to those who think to listen.

So are you moving on now? Is that what brought you to the grand metropolis of Valladolid?” “No. The wind just blew me here.” “What? Like a plastic bag?” “I prefer to think of myself as a ship. Like a sailboat.

Neither sleet nor rain nor a half inch of snow will compel me to dress like a lumberjack.