Love isnโt a thing, after all, but an endless series of single acts.
I started reading literature at 17 or 18, and I felt this extra beat to life.
The pace of life feels morally dangerous to me.
Things you did. Things you never did. Things you dreamed. After a long time they run together.
When people realize they are being listened to, they tell you things.
My father died in my arms. That's tumult. That's everything exploding.