He Was Feeling Buoyant, Flexible. He Wanted

Once A Year, She Remembers That She Is Insignificant. Then She Forgets Agains, Because More Than She Is Insignificant, She Is Forgetful.

Every Story We Remember Is A Novel. Novels Make Things More Universal.

I Had Forgotten That, And So Many Things. How Could I Put Everything Down On Paper? It Seemed Impossible. No Matter What, The Majority Of Life Would Be Left Out Of This Story, This Sliver Of A Version Of The Life I'd Known. But I Tried Anyway.

He Remained, Weeks After Awakening, In That Period Of Early-morning Consciousness That Allows Easy Re-entry To Dreaming. His Limbs Still Tingled With The Residue Of Sleep, And Most Days He Wanted Badly To Allow It To Overtake Him Again.

Humans Are Divided Between Those Who Can Still Look Through The Eyes Of Youth And Those Who Cannot.