Our Sense Of Self Is A Kind

At A Certain Point, You Must Be Able To Slip Loose. At A Certain Point, You Found That You Had Been Set Free. You Could Be Anyone, He Thought. You Could Be Anyone.

Here Is The Door Of My Mom's House, Well-remembered Childhood Portal. Here Is The Yard, And A Set Of Wires That Runs From The House To A Wooden Pole, And Some Fat Birds Sitting Together On The Wires, Five Of Them Lined Up Like Beads On An Abacus.

Our Sense Of Self Is A Kind Of Construct. It Is In Some Ways Like A Novel, And It's Like A Fabric Of Fictions That We Patch Together From Memory.

I Guess I'm Curious About How People Process Grief And How They Process Loss. And I'm Also Interested In The Ways In Which An Event Can Have Long-reaching Consequences And A Life Over The Course Of Years.

The Danger In Writing About A World You Don't Know Very Well Is That You Can Get Lost In It, And Sometimes I'll End Up With A Hundred Pages I Don't Know What To Do With.