Saturday, May 07, 2005


"After all that worry and rough seas, night runs aground. Some of them made it to shore after all. He knows a place where they can grab breakfast. Look at the time. Look at me. Look at them holding hands. They talked all night. While everyone else went mad they found each other. Not made for each other but maybe made out of each other. The same substance, the way the city is one substance, every inch of it from one end to the other." Colson Whitehead, The Colossus of New York 138-39 (2003).

Love should be like this.


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