Truth. What ferocity in your quest for it. You destroy and you suffer. In some strange way I am not with you, I am against you. We are destined to hold two truths. I love you and I fight you. And you, the same. We will be stronger for it, each of us, stronger with our love and our hate. When you caricature and nail down and tear apart, I hate you. I want to answer you, not with weak or stupid poetry but with a wonder as strong as your reality.
Anaïs Nin, Henry and June
What good is accuracy amidst the perpetual scattering that unspools the world.
Ada Limón, It’s The Season I Often Mistake