Her words, read for years on this wide web. I can no longer remember how I found her, what slim silver thread led me to her.
I am finding that her words, off the screen and in my hands feel very precious– both the long tapping hours and the breath-held precipice courage they represent.
But I am not fooled by the soft colors on the cover. This is a dangerous book. I have this sense, only a few pages in, that these words of hers could ruin me. In the best ways.
Can you guess where I’ll be this weekend?