Music gave us identity. What we listened to told us who we were. And we needed that.
We didn’t call it customer service. Instead, it was, simply, kindness.
Everything was brand new. A time to start over. This was our chance to make a clean break.
I miss those meals. I miss being handed a tray of something, no choices.
Here is July 1: the 182nd day of the year, the halfway point, the midsection of 2014, with 183 days left.
I hope that whatever you’re running toward, it’s a mighty good place.
Don’t you think we come to the beach because we want to stop moving? The road ends, we can’t go any farther, we are forced to stop. To finally be still.
In eliminating poetry from our lives, we miss discovering a pursuit of pleasure that we didn’t even know we needed.
The pictures may look the same on screen, but we can no longer legitimately call them “films.”