The universe is a collection of gestures. Body leaning toward body. Tilting away. Curling in, breathing out, connecting gaze to gaze, negotiating what’s between us.

Once, my father showed me how to draw the spaces between letters. Color in the curves and angles, and shift your eyes just right — meaning rises up from the page. It was magic.

[Note to me:]

Strive for this: stretch into the between-space. Find spark. Make heat, seek light, tilt face to sun, slide into the cool of shadow, remember to be curious. Polish the dull until a shine begins to show. Seek out a quiet place and sit. Make something from nothing much.