- Day three of no voice. I’m out of energy to project and starting to wonder if this is more lesson than illness.
- The truth is I don’t know. I know I’m longing for time in the secret place, but I don’t know what to say when I get there anymore.
- More art, less noise. More beauty, less division.
- Ask. The worst they can say is no.
- They’re petri dishes of interesting germs, louder than they should be, and filled with rude people, but damn do I love public libraries.
- Here we go.
- There’s a tenderness I’d been missing without knowing I missed it.
- When it goes into the chrysalis, the caterpillar doesn’t know that its body liquefying isn’t the end of its life. It only knows its skin is too small, that the pain of staying the same is greater than the fear of change.
- Spring rain, chilly and fresh.
- Cautiously optimistic. Don’t say yes to everything. Don’t think you’re too good to do it, either.
Of jumping in, public libraries, and being liquefied,