I'm Sorry. I Know You Loved Her.

It Is Easy To Forget How Full The World Is Of People, Full To Bursting, And Each Of Them Imaginable And Consistently Misimagined.

Remember That Time In The Minivan, Twenty Minutes Ago, When We Didn't Die?

At The End, We Brought Her To New York, Where I Was Living, For A Series Of Experimental Tortures That Increased The Misery Of Her Days Without Increasing The Number Of Them.

If People Could See Me The Way I See Myself - If They Could Live In My Memories - Would Anyone Love Me?

I'm Not Embarrassed By My Faith, And I'm Also Not Embarrassed By My Doubt.