Sublime

Her father once told her casually that she was built like a plum on toothpicks, and the phrase was at once so cruel and so poetic that it clicked into place around her like a harness.

Mind Yourself

me?”

It was an artist’s work to be attuned to everything that surrounded him, even when it was easier not to notice—to let suffering define one’s life.

“Pareidolia,”

Beckett still puts his big hand on the top of my head when we’re in parking lots like he’s afraid I’m going to run directly into traffic. I’m twenty-six years old.

“Strange to be almost fifty, no? I feel like I just understood how to be young.” “Yes! It’s like the last day in a foreign country. You finally figure out where to get coffee, and drinks, and a good steak. And then you have to leave. And you won’t ever be back.”

‘Cat Person’ by Kristen Roupenian, a short