I just think perfection and lasting through the ages is for Greek statues, not us mere humans.

Whatever you choose for your stationery is your favorite color because it's where you pour your heart out.

Which weakness shall I tell her? “I walk funny,” I say, and she’s satisfied with that. (inside joke)

Chance. It weaves through our lives like a golden thread, sometimes knotting, tangling, and breaking along the way. Loose threads are left hanging, but the in and out, the back and forth continues, the weaving goes on. It doesn't stop.

When you are perfect, is there anywhere else to go?

I still cry on waking. I'm not sure why. I feel nothing. Nothing I can name, anyway. It's like breathing - something that happens over which I have no control. (6)

Escape is not about moving from one place to another. It's about becoming more.