About the work

A closer look.

Send me one memory you can't put down. The kind that shows up at 3am still carrying the same sentence. What you get back, in writing, within 7 days: 1. The event, stripped. Who, when, where, what was said. No adjectives, no because. 2. The sentence underneath it. The line you use to explain the memory to yourself. That's where the flinching lives. 3. The constraint you had at the time. What you couldn't do, said plain, without excusing it. 4. The split: what happened is fixed. What it means was a decision you made afterward, alone. 5. One second meaning that is also true and that you can stand behind. Not comfort. A widening. 6. It comes back short, in your words. If I dress it up, you can't wear it. I don't write your line for you. I ask, and you say it. Otherwise it's my memory, not yours. I did this on the worst night of my own life first. It didn't erase what I'd carried. It made a second meaning possible, and that was enough to breathe. What I need from you: the memory as you'd tell a friend, including the part you'd rather leave out. Message me after you order.