He still has the dream in which he’s continued working on his long-abandoned novel and only now, after all these years, realizes he will have to start over. He always wakes with a heaviness in his chest. It wasn’t until after his father died that he recognized the feeling. He’d always sensed life had a plan for him, and he’d been right. There just aren’t any words for it.

Exquisite language that only calls attention to itself.

 In your selfie face I see only pain.

Drifting off to sounds of birds, or the wind, or cooking in the kitchen.

Canadian slasher movie with Leonard Cohen in a hockey mask.

The present you’ve ignored becomes the past you cling to.

At one celebratory banquet, Mr. Aldrin was breathlessly asked, “Tell us how it really felt to be on the moon!” Afterward, he rushed outside into an alley and wept.

The gift of language: miracle and catastrophe.

Going back to writing on tablets. Not electronic ones. Short pieces carved in stone.

We all have those rare friends who seem to generate an irresistable force field that draws people to them. I have the opposite power; my side of the room is always dependably empty and silent.