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The writer is a person who wants to hide and be found.

Anything worth preserving will carry over incidentally, and has, and the rest will fade away, making room for more.

I fall in love when I want them to fill all my pauses.

“Falling in love is like entering a room you didn’t know existed in your own house. You think you know the layout—you’ve lived here a long time, you’ve opened every drawer, rearranged every piece of furniture in your head—and then someone says, ‘What about this door?’ And they open it. And suddenly there’s light you’ve never seen before. A corner o... See more

its wicker finding new parts of my thighs in which it could dig.

Bring them into a world. Give them a reason to stay.

the current state of everyone I love still being here.

After a while, growing near each other, trees don’t know which roots are theirs.