Book 12: Why Fish Don't Exist by Lulu Miller Maybe such unruly persistence is beautiful. Maybe it is not mad, after all. Maybe it is the quiet work of believing in Good. Of believing in a warmth, which you know does not exist in the stars, to exist in the hearts of fellow humans. Maybe... Continue Reading →
I forget to make notes during the week about the things I want to say. Instead, I talk to myself and say them out loud. Then, I forget about them. Whispering nothings and mutterings to the universe is an unconscious habit. Now I understand why my grandmother used to talk to herself while washing vessels,... Continue Reading →
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