Hunting will never feed lots of people; it will always be a hobby.

In the morning, when the nothing vase casts a something shadow, like the memory of someone you've lost, what can you say about that?

Grandfather kicked the stop pedal, and my face gave a high-five to the front window.

Memory was supposed to fill the time, but it made time a hole to be filled.

September 11 had such a strong visual component, the most visually documented event in human history. Nothing's ever been seen by as many people as that was. Our experiences of the day, our memories of the day are just so tied up in images of buildings falling and bodies falling.

August has passed, and yet summer continues by force to grow days. They sprout secretly between the chapters of the year, covertly included between its pages.

I regret how much I believed in the future.