We long to be found, hoping our searchers have not given up and gone home.
We were awash in tiny attentions. Small gestures, words, empathies thought to be extinct came to life... We discovered the color of each other's eyes.
I’m not my name. My name is something I wear, like a shirt. It gets worn. I outgrow it, I change it.
She was bendable light: she shone around every corner of my day.
Heart and head are contrary historians.
Or maybe you’re merely uncomfortable with uncertainty. Like the rest of the human race.