Suspense

And the bridge bridged bravely on.

Falling. No becauses.

Today is the the.

Amor fati—the longest-shortest path from birth to death.

Perverse prose: language diverted from itself.

Eyes opened wide by a sudden suspension of belief.

Winged by slowness love arrived.

What counts as an event depends on the counter. (Then there are those who’ve stopped counting.)

Home only becomes home in the leaving.

To be surprised by nothing—to be at home in the event—is to be surprised by everything.