Photos from the library, wednesday

(And evening notes, from my notebook:
One thing I know: this always helps, even if I forget about it when I stand alone above the clouds, millions of miles from the closest star. Eons between me and the closest physical object. A chair, a window. Writing like this always helps. Now I sit for real in this couch, big notebook leaned against my knees and teacup against my stomach. It doesn’t necessarily make me understand, but one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead,)


Completely random thought from the other day:

There’s never been a generation more aware of their own sin. They might not categorize it as such, and they might try to cover it up – or cure it – with some twisted form of self acceptance. But don’t underestimate how much the world knows its judgement. And how much it acts in compensation for that.

(And of course let’s not skirt around the edges of chains, but let’s focus on how they fall.)

From Eden

Since the beginning of time, people have chosen their gardens. But you choose by growing it.

(Not some incessant stumbling, but willful action all the way into what will be your resting place.)