You have to see the miracles for there to be miracles.

When people fall in love, they burst into flames.

All her knowledge is gone now. Everything she ever learned, or heard, or saw. Her particular way of looking at Hamlet or daisies or thinking about love, all her private intricate thoughts, her inconsequential secret musings – they’re gone too. I heard this expression once: Each time someone dies, a library burns. I’m watching it burn right to the ground.

Or maybe a person is just made up of a lot of peopleMaybe we’re accumulating these new selves all the time. Hauling them in as we make choices, good and bad, as we screw up, step up, lose our minds, find our minds, fall apart, fall in love, as we grieve, grow, retreat from the world, dive into the world, as we make things, as we break things.

People die, I think, but your relationship with them doesn't. It continues and is ever-changing.

Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.

For the first time in our lives, I’m somewhere she can’t find, and I don’t have the map to give her that leads to me.