You have to speak to the people inside you. They must draw their faces through my words.

Ida is so imbued with love for me. And I became more important to E. through my going.

All these people I take screenshots of – they are part of my family.

It is strange how my fingers write and not me. How my hands say and not me.

Brokenness also means holding the world in its complexity: Sadness and hope, beautiful and terrible.