"The summer passed like pages of some old book, dusty, venerable, and fragrant. There were hints of decay—the decay of antiquity, of something that had promise and once was cherished rotting. I hadn’t noticed I had grown a couple of inches in some measure that let me know I could let things go."

"A tender curiosity illuminated by moments of mutual attention that seep into your life like moonlight between shutters on a summer night. The curiosity grew critical and somewhat opaque and sterile."

"I have found many roads in which I am coated in the softness of being."

"I spent those days hanging out my window like a t-shirt on a line, allowing my mind to spindle and unwind to the thoughts of others in memory. I wished at this time to be like everyone else; in that way, I was like everyone else."