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  • "If you look at it that way then you've never really failed. Just found a different way to get there."

    A couple walked on to the subway. He was speaking English with an Italian accent, wearing running shorts and vibram fives which looked even more ridiculous in the setting of the urban commute and she was wearing a skirt and flats which clearly didn't provide the arch support I generally need. But they had a lovely conversation which I felt lucky to be in close proximity to.

    A few hours earlier, I'd given Maria and Sarah something. It broke my heart to realize that they couldn't read. How could it be? How could it be? Here? In this time? I suppose some of us won the lottery and were literate in the right languages and illiterate in the right ones. When Harry dropped by the studio we were talking about the virtue of reading good books and being less stagnant with our lives.

    I felt as I picked up the trash (and feeling a little more than trash because of it) that inside of me there lived an abyss. I'd kissed it sometime ago and some people travel through wormholes but others can carry it within themselves. The best stories let you do that, they teleport you through time and space. Science fiction and memories compel me for these reasons. But instead of wormholes on this particular day, I feel like there is a black hole within. An emptiness that I'm trying to fill with the right tetris block. Very few of the pieces seem to stick and the scaffolding keeps crumbling before the glue sticks.

    This way of operating is unsustainable because all my bridges keep collapsing. Still, we hit the road regardless of the weather and infrastructural creaks. Setting the focus to infinity and taking it all in.
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