it’s the thing that gives us momentum, right? that search for happiness. it’s what helps us change our lives. so we did it. we changed our lives. to the extreme. and then it takes us months and months to dare ask, are you happy? it’s a fair but dangerous question.
a poet sees a pair of sneakers on the sidewalk. she writes about them, of course. right? *sigh.* not this poet. she takes a picture of them. she saves them for later.
it’s not a glamorous process. i’ve never been a graceful girl. i’m clumsy and awkward, and there’s a homeliness about how i navigate the world. but something interesting is happening: i can see that it’s its own kind of advantage. people who are afraid for others to see them stumble usually don’t attempt anything tricky. tricky is my middle name. and it has been tricky — lots of tricky things in rapid succession. so says dorothy: ‘people come and go so quickly here.’