The Monastery of Used Bookstores They're time machines. Confession booths. Repositories of the collective unconscious.
Dancing with the Hours Here's to the slipperiness of seconds. To the way moments expand and contract defying our attempts to hold them still.
Falling into life Here's to falling into things. To the wisdom of allowing ourselves to be surprised by paths we never thought to seek.
The manual of human weather Seasons don't just change – they dissolve into each other like watercolours bleeding across wet paper.
Nothing has meaning beyond the meaning we give it We are cosmic graffiti artists, spraying our declarations of importance across the indifferent walls of reality.
The shape of water There is a profound relief in finally surrendering to your own shape, in letting your edges be edges
The man who never left The greatest journey is the one we take in accepting that all our movements, grand or small, are just elaborate preparations for the moment we must stop moving altogether.I chose to begin with stillness
The weathervane Each broken thing was a story interrupted, waiting for someone patient enough to hear its ending.
The great "want" audit You can't shop for authenticity at Whole Foods, and you can't download it from the App Store