THE BOOK
“
You died. But the fire does not care, and neither shall you.
— an epitaph, unmarked
MY READINGthis hit me during a low year — proof that persistence isn't about being cared for, just continuing anyway.
“
Even the smallest lantern parts the dark.
— found in a margin
MY READINGthis resonated with my feelings toward patriarchy — small acts of care still matter against something so vast.
“
We are all, in the end, our own last light.
— a wanderer, dying
MY READINGabout self-reliance — nobody is coming, and that is its own strange comfort.
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