I can't shove the dark out of my way.

Grief and love are conjoined, you don't get one without the other. All I can do is love her, and love the world, emulate her by living with daring and spirit and joy.

I always imagined music trapped inside my clarinet, not trapped inside of me. But what if music is what escapes when a heart breaks?

According to all the experts, it's time for me to talk about what I'm going through... I can't. I'd need a new alphabet, one made of falling, of tectonic plates shifting, of the deep devouring dark.

How could a mother who boils water for pasta leave two little girls behind?

I can't shove the dark out of my way.

The architecture of my sister's thinking, now phantom. I fall down stairs that are nothing but air.