
The story comes in the wee hours, the witching hours, the
stuck-between-night-and-day hours of three and five. It plays like a movie.
There she is in her sweatpants, the main character. She’s anxious, unsettled
(as you...
"As soon as we express something, we devalue it strangely. We believe ourselves to have dived down into the depths of the abyss, and when we once again reach the surface, the drops of water on our pale fingertips no longer resemble the ocean from which they came...Nevertheless, the treasure shimmers in the darkness unchanged." ---Franz Kafka