No One Belongs Here More Than You

Everyone knows that if you paint a human being entirely with house paint he will live, as long as you don’t paint the bottom of his feet. It takes only a little thing like this to kill a person.

When I said “a lot of work,” I moved my hands apart to represent all the work. He stared at the space between my palms and asked if I played the accordion.

The boy was growing bored and this was a form of growing up. I was getting depressed and this was my own fault.

there are some great reasons for resisting language, and one of them is love.

But I could see the end in sight: the boy’s shirt had cartoon characters on it and the cartoon characters were leaning away from me, they were taking a step back as the boy stepped forward.

I told myself that the sound of my breathing was really the sound of all the animals in the world breathing, even the humans, even the boy, even his dog, all together, all breathing, all on Earth, at night.

I could feel the accordion between my hands and how impressed he would be if I said yes.

I pulled down my jean shorts and lifted my shirt over my head.

He looked like he was standing in a strong wind.