“what is the shape of mourning? what is the sound of a memory? how do we honor the sharp, tingling sensation of yearning that fills the cavity of our soft bodies when we think of how things could have been?

we honor this present moment by attempting to breathe life into this institution, which like all other museums, necessitates death. by prioritizing preservation over decay, archive over life. sites where bodies become artifacts, and bones are refused the honor of a slow degradation back into the atoms of the earth.”

“So much of my life has been a fight against. Systems, institutions - in reaction to. It is only now that I am trying to live my life not against anything, instead, in service of. Not a taut fisted, steely eyed resistance, but an open armed, deep breath leaning towards.

Everyday, I try to move towards a life that, while incidentally against capitalism, feels only like tipping my body precariously and fearlessly towards life and joy and meaning. On the very edges of my toes, my arms waving at my sides for balance. A combination of elation and fear.

In this reorientation, I have started to find the most natural, easy, free way to spend my days. There are, it turns out, so many things to live for. In its baseline, literal definition, isn’t this the true meaning of revolution? (A turning towards, a turning away)”