Those Genes Could Have Been Mine
How do you eat your roots?
Can I ask you a personal question"? Of all the rhetorical questions in the world, that is the one which irritates me most with its simultaneous gesture towards and denial of the trespass that is about to follow.
Somewhere deep within the marrow of our marrow, we were the same.
So many things you promise yourself you won't get used to, and then you do.
There is no mystery-- that's the beauty of it. We are entirely explicable to each other, and yet we stay. What a miracle that is.