N. is out of the hospital and strangely already herself, texting in paragraphs. She’s happy.
R. opens my door without knocking, sits on the tatami with an expectant air and has no idea what she’s expecting. She wants the world to be more than it is.
Tao Te Ching: “nothing is lacking.” If you really meant that it would leave nothing standing.
Supposing I built a Moorish garden out back, what would come bathe.
A whisper on the walk home: you don’t have to keep trying to do the impossible. Meaning what, though?
