All writers will tell you that it is impossible to write without reading, without being immersed in the language, wrapped up with imagery and submerged in syntax. I stumbled onto this truth out of desperation, always having been too stubborn to take advice from others. And I am so glad to have arrived here, in the reading world again.


A while back, I asked a friend of mine if I was unrelatable, if I had narrowed my circumstances beyond what can be empathized with. Along with this message, I sent a picture of the full moon over a pagoda. I sent it not to compound my inquiry but because it was what I was looking at as I was chatting with him. I did not receive a reply and perhaps that is my answer. I find myself withdrawing further and further from the maddening crowd and I do not feel that my socially-minded comrades appreciate it. I do follow…