“Everything was ours, our reality untamed by time and misogyny, and the price we’d pay for living remained alien to us.”

“I’ve seen too much writing lately that makes metaphors of hunger.”

“We are sometimes called upon to compromise our sense of propriety in the name of love.”

“Can you see the brushstrokes? Do you want to touch them? Do you want to lick the paint?”

“Damn, I felt how my dad looked. BLACK. Bleachers. BLACK. Dancefloor. BLACK. Fools started shoving motherfuckers. Did a fight break out? “

It’s Saturday morning and we have until Sunday night. I know our weekend routine better than my weekday schedule, storing it in the part of my brain reserved for things I actually like.