This is what I want: I want to grab my brother’s hand and run back through time, losing years like coats falling from our shoulders.

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.

Remember how it was when we kissed? Armfuls and armfuls of light thrown right at us. A rope dropping down from the sky. How can the word love and the word life even fit in the mouth?

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

We wish with our hands, that's what we do as artists.

When I'm with him, there is someone with me in my house of grief, someone who knows its architecture as I do, who can walk with me, from room to sorrowful room, making the whole rambling structure of wind and emptiness not quite as scary, as lonely as it was before.

And then he smiles, and in all the places around the globe where it's night, day breaks.