I ran rather than walked, anxious to lose my way. All I wanted was to be unsure.
We had everything to say to each other, but no ways to say it
Love...is the immovability of truth.
As a writer, putting words on the page is how I pay attention.
She wanted nothing more than someone to miss, to touch, with whom to speak like a child, with whom to be a child.
When we eat factory-farmed meat we live, literally, on tortured flesh. Increasingly, that tortured flesh is becoming our own.