be silly, be honest, be kind

“The air was soft, the stars so fine, the promise of every cobbled alley so great, that I thought I was in a dream.”

“When I leave my own house, there’s always a part of me that stays behind, waiting for me to get back. That’s what makes it my home - that feeling that a part of me is always waiting for me there.”

“I wish that photographs were physical spaces, like tunnels; that you could crawl inside them and go back.”

“Nostos algos. I want to go home. A phrase that’s stuck on a loop, that I hear before falling asleep, waiting in line for my coffee, tapping the elevator button and rising through the sky to my apartment…and yet my desire is not attached to a particular place…I want to go home but what I mean, what I’m grasping for, is not a place. It’s a feeling. I want to go back. But back where? Maybe to the first time I heard Stevie Nicks, to watching the snow fall outside the window with a paperback folded open in my lap, to the moment before I tasted alcohol, to virginity and not really knowing that things die, back to believing that something great is still up ahead, back to before I made the choices that would hem me in to the life I live now. A life that I regret sometimes, I think, only because it’s mine, because it’s turned out this way and not some other way, because I can’t go back and change what will happen.”