Queequeg was George Washington cannibalistically developed. Like some poor devils ashore that happen to know an irascible great man, they make distant unobtrusive salutations to him in the street, lest if they pursued the acquaintance further, they might receive a summary thump for their presumption. But not only did each of these famous whales enjoy…

Too curious to ask you a question. Too humble to stop sharing personal accomplishments. Too well read to bother with Emerson.

You’re at the beach, on mars. That’s what it feels like at Falesia Beach. Who knew the sand would be so incredible, smooth grains of rice.

An army of letters. Battalions of words fighting to be heard. Their composition a dull thud of footsteps. Heard and yet not understood.

The joy of others is my joy. The tears of others are my tears. There is no them.