I Want To Learn How

As Far As We Know, We Are The Only Species On The Planet Who Have Been Given The Gift-or Curse, Perhaps-of Awareness About Our Own Mortality. Everything Here Eventually Dies; We're Just The Lucky Ones Who Get To Think About This Fact Every Day.

Venice Is Beautiful, But Like A Bergman Movie Is Beautiful; You Can Admire It, But You Don't Really Want To Live In It.

Fear Can Have A Voice, But It Doesn't Get A Vote.

I Have My Own Set Of Survival Techniques. I Am Patient. I Know How To Pack Light. But My One Might Travel Talent Is That I Can Make Friends With Anybody. I Can Make Friends With The Dead. If There Isn’t Anyone Else Around To Talk To, I Could Probably Make Friends With A Four-foot-tall Pile Of Sheetrock. That Is Why I’m Not Afraid To Travel To The Most Remote Places In The World, Not If There Are Human Beings There To Meet. People Asked Me Before I Left, “do You Have Friends [there]?’ And I Would Just Shake My Head No, Thinking To Myself, But I Will.

Moss Is Inconceivably Strong. Moss Eats Stone; Scarcely Anything, In Return, Eats Moss. Moss Dines Upon Boulders, Slowly But Devastatingly, In A Meal That Lasts For Centuries. Given Enough Time, A Colony Of Moss Can Turn A Cliff Into Gravel, And Turn That Gravel Into Topsoil.