I want my boy to touch the beauty in the world, to be a vessel for the softness, to be enthralled by the detail, by the poetry, by the sad song.

W has so much to give and gives all the time and has fooled himself into thinking that giving has been stolen by capitalism. And he feels sad and imprisoned by that a lot of the time.

I remember being shocked as a young teen by the sadness of the Radiohead sound and feeling ashamed that I couldn’t handle it. It was nice to read about that in Tania de Rosario’s essay on Singapour.

There’s something about the never-ending conversation types, that meander down the river of time at the tempo of the flow.