He told me one time he forgot himself & his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch & he tried for days to put it all back in proper order but finally he gave up & left it all jumbled up there in a pile & loved everything equally.
The top of his head was open up to the sky & when he walked down the street he’d end up with strange things in there like the number of dogs in China, or the time it takes to cook a pig. It’s not really useful, he said, but I’d miss this stuff if it … [Read More]