Some people say that you can make a house in your mind and place certain memories in each room. For me, it’s geometric. Things are generally organized, but there is some mess. It’s like going to the attic.
In recounting the details of my father’s life, I discovered something simple: Through a lifetime of ceaseless work and an unmistakable belief in family, Mike has made it possible to focus on the things that make him happy.
there was a little rat who dressed up in little/ outfits and went outside to perform his little tasks like/ going to rat school and nibbling and marching up logs
Pushing through twin doors at the end of the hall, I arrive at an empty theater. What have I come here for? What do I want the theater to do for me–to do to me?
We value a musician's completed compositions, technical virtuosity, or the ability of a performer to express emotion. But what about the value of listening?
My face and my head pulse, and so does the radio. I’m losing track of time, but I can tell that we’re close to the beach when the police officer stops us—the ceaseless strip of road has gone satisfyingly gritty with sand.
The truth of any good tale is the thing that makes it art. Without truth, art’s power to change the way we see things fails in the hands of the artists and remains, then, merely words on a page.
