I wanted to embrace the quotidian in our lives, wanted to ennoble it, staring at it, invest it with an undisappointable hope.

I wanted to frame things like the peeling white paint of the bathroom, with its whitened hinges and hooks; the faded, colored towel, too.

Say: these were our forks, this was our pile of books.

I wanted to impart things with love, to get that curious buoyancy of giving your heart out: of wanting only to see something succeed—bird take wing, leaf float to the ground, man take unicycle, green lights go red all at once, a baby fall down.

The freedom involved in having a lover, releasing yourself to the other's resistance, going as far as you can go.

I wanted to show You the world, Unknown.

Once.