chasing light at the museum

remembering the hyacinth girl

It doesn’t really matter why I felt like I was sinking — the overwhelm is not the story — but for weeks, I’d been struggling to hold my head above the surface. I was writing, for hours on end: a frenzy of words. It was difficult, like the best writing is, and so I had little of myself left to give in the time around the edges of my already overbrimming …