I didn’t think I’d be that lucky, though, because I am too much a saga of a certain type of person: fuzzy blackness, impractical meditations and repressed desires.
— Charles Bukowski, from “The Aftermath of a Lengthy Rejection Slip”
Alan Bradley, from Speaking from Among the Bones
[But now, I am also learning this: we can be mended.] We mend each other.
[I have no home, no path, and no certainty. I am no longer Tris, the selfless, or Tris, the brave.] I suppose that now, I must become more than either.
Then the shouting begins.