Each time someone dies, a library burns.

“I have an impulse to write all over the orange walls- I need an alphabet of end…”

“Before he finally hops on his borad, he hugs me good-bye and we hold on to each…”

“And it's just dawned on me that I might be the author of my own story, but so i…”

“grief is a housewhere the chairshave forgotten how to hold usthe mirrors how to…”