Making Love To Aurelia Was Like Rummaging

It’s Hard, In America, Not To Equate ‘happiness’ With ‘things’.

Life Had Been A Suit I'd Only Put On For Special Occasions. Most Of The Time I Kept It In The Back Of My Closet, Forgetting It Was There. We Were Meant To Die When It Was Barely Stitched Anymore, When The Elbows And Knees Were Stained With Grass And Mud, Shoulder Pads Uneven From People Hugging You All The Time, Downpours And Blistering Sun, The Fabric Faded, Buttons Gone.

Always Live Your Life With Your Biography In Mind," Dad Was Fond Of Saying. "naturally, It Won't Be Published Unless You Have A Magnificent Reason, But At The Very Least You Will Be Living Grandly.

Well, Life Isn't A Cakewalk, Is It?! Eighty-nine Percent Of The World's Most Valuable Art Was Created By Men Living In Rat-infested Flats. You Think Velásquez Wore Adidas? You Think He Enjoyed The Luxuries Of Central Heating And Twenty-four-hour Pizza Delivery?!

It Felt As If We'd Been To War Together. Deep In A Jungle, Alone, I Had Relied On Them, These Strangers. They'd Held Me Up In Ways Only People Could. When It Was Over, An Ending Never Felt Like An Ending, Only An Exhausted Draw, We Went Our Separate Ways. Be We Were Bonded Forever By The History Of It, The Simple Fact They'd Seen The Raw Side Of Me And Me Of Them, A Side No One, Not Even Closest Friends Or Family Had Ever Seen Before, Or Probably Ever Would.