Please be truthful, but also please be benevolent, please.

In truth I was manufacturing a brick wall of shits.

Books are for those without real lives, he thought. And they are no real replacement.

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 couldn't speak the language of his feelings

...he enclosed pieces of string that he used to measure out his body--his head, thigh, forearm, finger, neck, everything. He wanted me to sleep with them under my pillow. He said that when he came back, we would remeasure his body against the string as proof that he hadn't changed.

Why I'm not where you are ...