The moment you see something with your own eyes and feel injustice with all your senses, you cross an inner border, you know you can’t go back from there.
How do we speak, not to the defenses and the armor, the puffed chests and bolstered cases, but to the innocent creatures beneath, rattled and confused? How do we step into the battlefield with curiosity, not to fight, but to call one another home? How do we call each other back to our own ...
How I longed to smoke and drink coffee with the artists and writers, discuss the meaning of life and the purpose of art, exchange witticisms and criticisms while our laughter rose above the din of the cafe along with our smoke, into the Parisian night. Why didn’t you ever take me to Paris? You ...