There's so much I cannot name or keep safe, but these messy marks are maps of love and even at that, they are beautifully incomplete.
For every system we think complete is a lie, even the ones we love--perhaps those more than others.The spaces between stories are not silences, but rather energies we sometimes heed, sometimes name, often forget. They exceed our definitions, our hunches, our partial knowledge as they are maps we make by living.
[..]All our measurements are at best temporary truths--stories we can't quite hold and need not hold.
[..]..numbers and the like are placeholders for stories we can't quite tell ourselves.