I Love Writing. I Feel

I Have Always Been Caught By The Pull Of The Unremarkable, By The Easily Missed, Infinitely Nourishing Beauty Of The Mundane.

We Think About Mortality So Little, These Days, Except To Flail Hysterically At It With Trendy Forms Of Exercise And High-fiber Cereals And Nicotine Patches.

When We Can't See A Pattern, We Fit Pieces Together Until One Takes Shape, Because We Have To.

... I Stayed Because Running Seemed Too Strange And Too Complicated. All I Knew Was How To Fall Back, Find A Patch Of Solid Ground, And Then Dig My Heels In And Fight To Start Over.

I Wasn't Sure I Could Make It Through Another Hour Of His Company Without Throwing My Stapler At His Head.