As Human Beings, We Have

The War Tried To Kill Us In The Spring. As Grass Greened The Plains Of Nineveh And The Weather Warmed, We Patrolled The Low-slung Hills Beyond The Cities And Towns. We Moved Over Them And Through The Tall Grass On Faith, Kneading Paths Into The Windswept Growth Like Pioneers. While We Slept, The War Rubbed Its Thousand Ribs Against The Ground In Prayer.

The Male Role Models I Had All Seemed To Have Been In The Military. My Father Served In The Army. My Uncle Was In The Marine Corps. Both Of My Grandfathers Served In Wwii. There Weren't Any Career Soldiers In My Family, But When I Was Young It Seemed Like A Way Of Arriving At Adulthood.

The World Makes Liars Of Us All.

Michael Koryta's Those Who Wish Me Dead Is An Absolutely Thrilling Read. I Read Most Of It With My Breath Held, Occasionally Exhaling To Ask Myself, 'what Will Happen Next?' I Highly Recommend It.

I Had The Feeling That If I Encountered Anyone They Would Intuit My Disgrace And Would Judge Me Instantly. Nothing Is More Isolating Than Having A Particular History. At Least That's What I Thought. Now I Know: All Pain Is The Same. Only The Details Are Different.