We Make Ourselves Large Or Small, Here

Walking Itself Is The Intentional Act Closest To The Unwilled Rhythms Of The Body, To Breathing And The Beating Of The Heart. It Strikes A Delicate Balance Between Working And Idling, Being And Doing. It Is A Bodily Labor That Produces Nothing But Thoughts, Experiences, Arrivals.

There's Enough Food In This World. There's Enough Housing In This World. There's Enough Shelter In This World. There's Enough Clothing In This World. There's Enough Teachers, There's Enough Universities For Everybody's Needs To Be Met, And The Reasons They Aren't Is Not Because Of Lack Of Resources. It's Because Of Distribution, And That's The Politics Of Hate, Which Is Why This Is A Movement Against That. It's A Politics Of Love.

No Matter How Deeply You Come To Know A Place, You Can Keep Coming Back To Know It More.

Before Writers Are Writers They Are Readers, Living In Books, Through Books, In The Lives Of Others That Are Also The Heads Of Others, In That Act That Is So Intimate And Yet So Alone.

I Don't Think My Work Has To Be Loved By Everyone, And It's Loved By Enough People That I'm Grateful And Able To Keep Going.