The Small Desk Press Blog

A Novella is Born: Come Help Us Celebrate the Release of Monster Party by Lizzy Acker! Dec. 11, 7pm, Amnesia, S.F!

2010-11-27T10:24:00.000-08:00

Small Desk Press is excited to announce the release of

Monster Party

by Lizzy Acker

Please come celebrate at the book’s launch party!

When: Saturday, December 11th 7:00 PM

Where: Amnesia, 853 Valencia Street, San Francisco

With readings by Jim Nelson, Anisse Gross, Adam Moskowitz, Marisa Crawford, and the author.

For more information or to buy the book, visit smalldeskpress.com

Or contact the editors at info@smalldeskpress.com

To view the Facebook invite click here:Monster Party Book Launch

Praise for Monster Party:

“I remember the first time I read Irvine Welsh and thinking ‘my god, how does this guy do it?’ Meaning, not only write with the terrible awful beauty he does, but also how does he go on living if he knows this stuff? I felt a similar thing when I finished reading Lizzy Acker’s MONSTER PARTY: How does she do it? Write that way and keep on keeping on even after she knows this horrible life stuff? This book is the real deal – with a voice that is true and truly its own, characters mushing towards and away from each other in pathetic, funny, wounded human, fucked-up ways that will break whatever is left of your tired heart.” - Rebecca Brown, The Gifts of the Body

“If there is a genre called Southern Gothic, shouldn’t there be a genre called Northwest Abjection? And voila! here is a shining example. Lizzy Acker’s novella seems awkward, unresolved, and right, like she’s some kind of corn-fed Zen mistress, imminence pouring like daylight into her intolerable fables of life’s hilarious randomness. Meanwhile, the search for love and perhaps most importantly the attempt to somehow get through the day twist emotions and plotlines. What a wonderful book!”

- Robert Glück, Jack the Modernist

“Lizzy Acker’s Monster Party is a rager of vulnerable tomboy bravado. This is the girl who you want holding back your hair at the end of the night, totally in touch with the ridiculous sickness of life – all its sad absurdity, useless longings, flares of courage and derring-do. There’s a goofy punch of love fist-kissing the the heart of this book, bruising its tough poetry with melancholy humor. Totally awesome.” - Michelle Tea, Valencia

Sarah Fran Wisby -- Litseen's "Best SF Reading of the Week"

2010-11-27T09:58:00.000-08:00

Read Full Review Here

Sarah Wisby » Kaleidoscope Reading Series from Evan Karp on Vimeo.

Small Desk Press Wants You to Like Literature Again

2010-09-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

SMALL DESK PRESS WANTS YOU TO LIKE LITERATURE AGAIN. I MEAN, NOT LIKE YOU EVER STOPPED, BUT WE WANT YOU TO REALLY LIKE IT. WE ALSO WANT YOU TO FEEL ALIVE, TO ACT CRAZY, TO APPRECIATE BODIES AND TOILET HUMOR, TO MAKE ART, TO FORM WEIRD CONSPIRACIES THAT PLOT THE OVERTHROW OF SOMETHING UGLY, TO SIT QUIETLY AND LISTEN IN A TIME WHEN LISTENING IS NOT REALLY IN FASHION. COME OUT AND SEE OUR AUTHORS READ. YOU WON'T REGRET IT OR YOU MIGHT REGRET IT, BUT THEN YOU HAVE PROBLEMS THAT MERE LITERATURE ALONE CANNOT REPAIR.

SARAH FRAN WISBY
ALI LAWRENCE
DUSTIN HERON
LIZZY ACKER
& JEANNINE HALL GAILEY

OCTOBER 9TH AT 6 PM. ADOBE
BOOKS, 3166 16TH ST, SF, CA

Jeannine Hall Gailey Wins the Lizzy Acker Monster Poetry Contest!

2010-09-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

Read Jeannine Hall Gailey's winning poem, "They Are Not Regenerating," at We Who Are About to Die

Matt Rohrer Interviews Matt Rohrer about Small Desk Press, but calls himself Melissa Broder

2010-08-27T19:01:00.000-07:00

Get the real scoop on how Small Desk Press was started, the kind of writing we look for, and how we make the world a little brighter for unpublished consecrators of poop at

We Who Are About to Die

M: What do you look for in a potential Small Desk Press book besides a hairy author?

Our authors are not usually terribly hairy so it’s funny that you mention that. We like stuff that is taboo and raw and gutsy in terms of content and/or form. I’m a sucker for writing about sex and blood and poop and death and all that bodily stuff. We also tend to publish work that’s not perfectly polished: that has raw emotional content and maybe a few sloppy lines. Sometimes we work a lot on a manuscript with an author if we feel like it could be better, which is something that takes a lot of time but I think this goes along with our mission of publishing emerging writers. Sometimes we publish work as is. It’s also nice to publish people who you think you might like to work with. You end up communicating a lot with a person who you publish. Luckily the people we’ve published are all pretty cool, but I can’t imagine how much it would suck to publish someone who was a jerk. And we all know people who are great writers and total jerks.

Monster Poetry Contest -- Last Chance to Submit!

2010-07-29T19:05:00.000-07:00

Your last chance to submit your work to the LIZZY ACKER MONSTER POETRY CONTEST is THIS SUNDAY, so please get on it!

The contest winner will receive a free catalog of all Small Desk Press titles – including Monster Party when it's released this fall – plus publication on http://wewhoareabouttodie.com/.

Please send submissions to contest@smalldeskpress.com by August 1st, 2010, and write "Lizzy Acker Monster Poetry Submission" in the subject line. Please include a cover page with ONLY the title of the poem. The winner will be notified by email.

What I Kind of Liked About You . . . .

2010-06-26T08:49:00.000-07:00

Small Desk Press book designer and founding member Jacob Evans is posting great stuff over at What I Kind of Liked About You, wherein all posts begin with the line "What I kind of liked about you . . . ." as in "What I kind of liked about you was the vomit of information, the barf of language, always coming out of you . . ." Imagine the possibilities . . . . .

Jacob lives in Hanoi, where he teaches English and rides a Russian motorcycle.

Poetry Reading this Thursday -- Marisa Crawford, Britta Austin, and Others

2010-06-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

Date: Thursday, June 3, 2010
Time: 7:00pm - 9:30pm
Location: Dog-Eared Books
Street: 900 Valencia Street @ 20th
City/Town: San Francisco

An event celebrating the release of The Haunted House (Marisa Crawford) & Artifacts (Britta Austin)

Featuring readings by:

Britta Austin
Marisa Crawford
Claire Kiefer
Geraldine Kim

Starts at 7PM
There will be wine, snacks & paperbacks.
We hope to see you there!

***********************

Britta Austin grew up on a retired farm in the Pacific Northwest, where she studied the fine arts of tree fort building, river wading, and chicken herding. She now lives in San Francisco where she tends to her small family of old manual typewriters and bikes about town admiring street trees and dreaming of the forest. Her first book, Artifacts, was released from Watchword Press in January 2010.

Marisa Crawford is the author of The Haunted House from Switchback Books. Her poems have also appeared in Shampoo, Action, Yes, Invisible Ear, Glitterpony and Parthenon West. She received her MFA from San Francisco State University and lives in San Francisco where she works as a copywriter and sometimes teaches high school students about poetry and feminism.

Claire Kiefer was born and raised in Georgia, but has been living and teaching in San Francisco for six years. She earned her MFA in Poetry from San Francisco State University in 2007, taught creative writing at San Quentin State Prison for several years, and now teaches children of incarcerated parents at Balboa High School.

Geraldine Kim is the author of Povel (Fence Books, 2005) which was featured in the Believer and Village Voice's top 25 books of the year. She also wrote the play Donning Cheadle, which was produced in San Francisco. She has been published in Kitchen Sink, Big Bell, 2nd Avenue, 14 Hills, and others.

The Lunatic is in the Mall

2010-06-01T14:03:00.000-07:00

Marisa Crawford revisits her teen angst when she stumbles upon a Pink Floyd tank top at Forever 21.

"Lyrics like 'Mother, should I trust the government?' screamed at me from my t-shirt and my stereo simultaneously while I laid in my bed, thinking about how totally fucked up society was. This exploration of deep, dark emotions often was not pretty: it sometimes went hand-in-hand with depression, eating issues, drugs and a slew of other self-abusive behaviors. And in some ways, I feel insulted to be offered re-entry into an emotionally charged adolescent world where I first learned to question the status quo via a $15 Pink Floyd tank top."

Read all about it at The Ironing Board Collective

Quote of the Week -- Dickinson

2010-05-21T13:55:00.000-07:00

Faith is a fine invention
When Gentlemen can see --
But microscopes are prudent
in an emergency

Emily Dickinson #185

LIZZY ACKER MONSTER POETRY CONTEST!!

2010-05-11T15:31:00.000-07:00

Lizzy Acker Monster Poetry Contest

Judge: Lizzy Acker

Are there monsters in your closet? Or under your bed? Do you see them when you close your eyes? Do you love them?

In celebration of the upcoming release of Lizzy Acker's Monster Party, Small Desk Press is thrilled (and terrified) to present the Monster Poetry Contest.

Send us a poem about monsters: think Frankenstein, Loch Ness, serial killers, childhood nightmares, the REM album, The Aileen Wuornos movie, etc., etc., etc.

The contest winner will receive a free catalog of all Small Desk Press titles – including Monster Party when it's released this fall – plus publication on http://wewhoareabouttodie.com/.

Please send submissions to contest@smalldeskpress.com by August 1st, 2010, and write "Lizzy Acker Monster Poetry Submission" in the subject line. Please include a cover page with ONLY the title of the poem. The winner will be notified by email.

Quote of the Week -- Dostoevsky

2010-05-11T15:22:00.000-07:00

" . . . every reality, even though it has its unalterable laws, is almost always difficult to believe and improbable, and sometimes, indeed, the more real it is the more improbable it is."

"But could he eat sixty monks?" they asked, laughing round him.

"He didn't eat them all at once, that's evident. But if he consumed them in the course of fifteen or twenty years, it is perfectly comprehensible and natural . . . . . ."

from The Idiot by Fyodor Dostoevsky
Part 3, Lebedev's drunken rant, p. 346

2010-05-08T10:53:00.000-07:00

Our authors are tougher than yours.

First Annual Small Desk Press Fest!

2010-04-20T13:17:00.000-07:00

Friday April 30th at Adobe Books 7:30 pm

Readings by the folks who run Small Desk Press and Lizzy Acker, the author of our forthcoming book, Monster Party! Wine, snacks, and hacky sacks. Free! Come listen to the voices of our generation, support Small Desk Press, buy a book, and enjoy the evening.

Readings by:

Corry Seibert
Lizzy Acker
Marisa Crawford
Matt L. Rohrer
Max Farber
Michael McCarrin
Tim Willcutts

3166 16th Street
(at Albion St)
San Francisco, CA 94103
(415) 864-3936

COME VISIT US AT THE AWP CONFERENCE!

2010-04-07T21:05:00.000-07:00

Small Desk Press will be at the AWP conference tomorrow (Thurs., 4/8) in Denver, sharing table 017 with Invisible Ear, Agnes Fox Press, Skein, and Minutes Books. Come on By!

If you need to pump yourself up a bit, watch this audiovisual interpretation of Gertrude Stein's Tender Buttons --

2010-03-29T19:20:00.000-07:00

Matt Rohrer's band's new Ep is available for download at www.goldenwestservice.blogspot.com!

SDP at the 2010 AWP Conference in Denver

2010-03-28T13:52:00.000-07:00

Small Desk Press will have a table at the Association of Writers & Writing Program's (AWP) annual conference, which takes place in Denver this year, April 7 - 10.

Come stop by our table, say hi to Matt Rohrer and Marisa Crawford, and check out our books!

Review of Marisa Crawford's Haunted House in SF Examiner

2010-03-28T13:44:00.000-07:00

LJ Moore Writes, "Crawford’s book is a softly shocking, sensory-waking collection of elegiac poems about childhood and young-adult friendships and how that not-adult, not-child changeling time is when we view ourselves and each other with the deepest acuity. Her free-verse poems are driven by a disarming combination of humor, true affection for her subjects, and a slightly off-kilter sense of the eerie quality of the everyday. There are tastes, scents, touches, thoughts, gut-feelings, knowings, voices: images so rich they cast a shadow over the now."

Read post below for details on next week's book release party (April 2nd at the Space Gallery in S.F)

Book Release Party for Marisa Crawford's The Haunted House

2010-03-28T09:38:00.001-07:00

SDP Associate Editor Marisa Crawford's debut collection of poetry, The Haunted House, hits bookshelves next week. Friends, family, and fans are gathering at the Space Gallery next Friday, April 2 to celebrate. Please come and join us! There will be drinks, snacks, cupcakes, and OUIJA BOARDS! Also, dancing.

And Readings by:

Marisa Crawford
Chrissy Anderson-Zavala
LJ Moore
Lizzy Acker
Matt L. Rohrer
Seth Landman

When: Friday, April 2nd at 7:30pm

Where: Space Gallery, 1141 Polk Street, San Francisco

$10 suggested donation gets you a copy of the book. (What a steal!)
21+

About the book:

The Haunted House was selected by Denise Duhamel as the winner of the 2008 Gatewood Prize, and will be released by Switchback Books on April 1st. For more information, go to switchbackbooks.com/hauntedhouse.html

"This poetry is the unholy and inevitable spawn of Emily Dickinson and Judy Blume. And it's a sugar high. Enter and enjoy the rush."
– Arielle Greenberg

"What's a new book of poetry without a prom parade of ghosts and girlfriends, joyrides with monsters, poems that offer up humor with your thrills, language so sharp it chills, and lines that will make you stop dead in your tracks? 'If heaven was a house, what bone structure.' It's scary how good this is."
-- Toni Mirosevich

To view the event page on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=350986294818

For more on OUIJA BOARDS, watch this:

SF Examiner Praises SDP and Spotlights Our Forthcoming Title, MONSTER PARTY!

2010-02-24T13:26:00.000-08:00

LJ Moore writes, "Small Desk’s fourth title, Monster Party, by Lizzy Acker — a collection of short works centered around a girl navigating her relationships with men and characterized by a boundless, fantastical imagination and sarcastic wit— is forthcoming in Summer/Fall 2010."

Small Desk Press Featured in SF Examiner

2010-02-17T13:17:00.000-08:00

Examiner book critic LJ Moore is writing a series of articles on Bay Area small presses this month, and Small Desk Press is at the top of her list. Check out her small press primer, published today.

LJ writes, "There are a lot more writers (and good ones) than can ever win the profit-making trophy, or dance naked on the head of a ballpoint pen. Contrary to the dog-eat-dog idea that there is only enough public attention span for a couple of literary darlings at a time, small publishers feel that there is enough love to go around, especially for the amazing writing that is being generated by unknowns everywhere."

Word.

Improvements to the Small Desk Press Website

2010-01-15T13:12:00.000-08:00

We've been working on a major overhaul of the web page, with the goal of making something that better showcases our authors' work, and, hopefully, is fun to use. It's still in progress, but we're now at a point where we thought we could roll out the new version. Keep an eye out for more improvements and features in the coming weeks. Meanwhile, if you have any problems, please send email to webmaster@smalldeskpress.com.

Another Rave Review for Sarah Fran Wisby's VIVA LOSS

2009-10-27T18:13:00.000-07:00

Paul Corman-Roberts of Crow Reviews writes, "Wisby’s recent publication from Small Desk Press, Viva Loss, is a Rosetta Stone of post-modern relationship politics, surrealism and Western mythology. Does all this sound too 'over-the-top?' It's not."

Dustin's reading at 554 Ashbury this Saturday!

2009-10-05T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Living Room Reading Series

Host:	Anhvu Buchanan and Richard Delia
Type:	Party - Reunion
Network:	Global

Date:	Saturday, October 10, 2009
Time:	7:15pm - 10:40pm
Location:	554 Ashbury

Description

a night of wonderful poetry,fiction, and playwriting. conversation, food and wine, and amazing art. featuring readings from Mary Burger, Dustin Heron, Daniel Roche, and Aichlee Bushnell.

Aichlee Bushnell is a native of Philadelphia, has spent the past year between Brazil and the Bay. A graduate of the University of Pennsylvania, she is currently pursuing an MFA in Poetry at Mills College.

Daniel Roche - Born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, Daniel lived a quiet ordinary suburban life, which immediately generated his desire to fantasize. While attending Arizona State University, his surreal play ‘The Meaning of Luben’ received an Honorable Mention from the 2004 Writer’s Digest Annual Writing Competition and his poems were showcased in magazines such as ‘Branches Quarterly’ ‘Edgar Literary Review,’ and William Patterson University’s ‘Burning Leaf,’ to name a few. Needing a break from the desert, he and his better-half moved to Taichung, Taiwan, where his work was showcased in the productions of ‘Woe-Man Woman’ and ‘The East/West Project.’ Daniel is a current MFA Playwright at San Francisco State University.

Dustin Heron is currently into dragons and sandwiches and dogs and bureaucracies and bus passes and trolls and a three party system and Arrested Development and the San Francisco 49ers. He is one of the hosts of the Velvet Revolution reading series at San Francisco State. His first book, Paradise Stories, is available from Small Desk Press.

Mary Burger 's latest book A Partial Handbook for Navigators is about spending time in different kinds of places (Interbirth Books.) Her catalog essay 'But What If the Object Began to Speak?' studies objects in places in artist Amy Trachtenberg's installation 'Groundwork' (Oro Editions.) She lives in Oakland and works at a landscape architecture firm in San Francisco, focusing on public park water conservation, creek restoration, and related urban/environmental reintegrations.

Sarah Fran Wisby Reads at Litquake, Adobe Books, and Makes Critic Swoon

2009-10-02T14:23:00.000-07:00

Sarah Fran Wisby, author of Viva Loss (Small Desk Press 2008) will be reading at Dog Eared Books on October 17th as part of this year's Litquake extravaganza. Sarah is also reading at Adobe Books on October 29th with Laura Alpert.

Viva Loss recently received a rave review at the online journal Cherry Bleeds. Wisby's "tiny word boxes, tiny coffins" made critic MK Chavez "swoon," knocking her down -- via an asphyxiating throat hold --, then dusted her off and set her upright, ready to "start all over again."

Sarah recently began teaching a creative writing class out of her apartment, which is going well.

Last July, she read the following piece at the Bang Out Reading Series:

“The Orgasm Museum” by Sarah Fran Wisby

The museum itself is solid enough, built of brick and steel, a former textile mill crouched next to a stream. In the days when cloth was dyed there, the stream ran indigo, or viridian, or blood red, depending on the day’s colorbath. Mostly women worked at the mill, in long mud-colored aprons, and hats like folded paper boats. In those cramped little industrial New England towns everyone was always waiting for something-romance, payday, childbirth, summer-but in the meantime they worked hard, and occasionally perished in fires.

You will want to know what color the stream was on the day of the fire. That detail unfortunately was not recorded. You might want to picture the whole scene in grainy black and white: the flames shooting white from the windows, gray bodies jumping from the flames into the black foliage, the black stream.

Anyway, the reason I tell you all this is because history is invisible-without some plaque on the wall or voiced-over mini-series, you wouldn’t even know it was there, covering itself in layer after layer, like a debt that grows and grows whether you touch it or not.

The curators of the orgasm museum were not unaware of these concerns when they stumbled across the property at the public auction house. Since the mill fire, the building had been an orphanage, a school, and chocolate factory, each incarnation an attempt to bury the last, with children, with geometry lessons, with candy. And now this attempt to elevate the intangible, to display the unseen. It was the late sixties and orgasms were everywhere. The curators went out with silk nets, and chloroform, and spray fixative, and captured and captured and captured.

Once inside the museum, what strikes you first is the discrepancy in the size of the specimens. Some sprawl across whole walls or hang from the ceiling like macrame forests. Some seem to be eating away at the walls like an acid. Others are displayed perched on the head of a pin with a magnifying glass on a string nearby-these smaller specimens tend to be densely packed and symmetrical like cut jewels. Probably chosen for that reason. I mean, you don’t want to peer through a microscope at something too abstract.

The passage of time has been less than kind. Many are delicately falling apart, like lace antimacassars. Who would’ve thought an orgasm could start to look fussy? They can’t be cleaned, either by feather dusters or by sharp bursts of compressed air, so mostly what you see when you look at them are the molecules of dust that have attached to them over the years. Still, in the tattered shapes that inhabit the chambers and corridors of the museum, something remains of their former radiance.

This one’s like a leaf, pulsed around a single vein.

This one is a painting of tigers, on black velvet, the tigers long gone.

This one kept coming, like clowns from a Volkswagen. Then, like knotted kerchiefs, pulled from a painted mouth.

This is the kind of place you come to alone. Couples break up here. “I’ve never had anything like that!” she says, and a seed gets planted. Anyone who walks in can’t help remembering their best orgasm. These memories rarely include husbands or wives, boyfriends or girlfriends, not current ones anyway.

This one has no center, but appears rhizomatic, like ginger root, or like the masses rising in revolution.

This one is a painting of a woman. She looks a bit like your mother. Oh my god, you realize, my mother has orgasms.

This one is a movie, an endless loop. It follows a jangling path. No characters. It’s what you see when you close your eyes. It’s who you are when you are nothing.

There are no placards next to the orgasms. Rather, there are numbers. And if you wish, you can go to the card catalogue and look them up. Each card simply lists a name, date, and place of origin. James, 1967, Brownsville, TX. Annika, 1970, Roanoke, VA. Jorge, 1969, Vacaville, CA. A map lights up in your mind. A whole other country taking shape.

You were spinning, and they took you down. You were vague, imprecise, groaning with blue. They pressed you under their thumbs, and stopped you wandering.

You are the remnant, remembering the whole. Later you will shrink back into yourself. This part is important, if you want to get things done.

There is one room you don’t want to go into, adjoining the main gallery. Small jars line many tiers of shelves. There are no numbers here to cross-reference. These are the orgasms that never were. The ladies that leaped with no hope of landing. There is a gate that swings open, swings shut. These are the birds that misjudged the distance. They flew through the gate at the wrong moment, and were crushed.

From Panama to Chicago, Ali Lawrence Contemplates Belonging and Nakedness

2009-10-02T13:36:00.000-07:00

Ali Lawrence, author of Anatomic (Small Desk Press 2008) is presently traveling through Panama, "collecting data," "doing field research," and "writing." Ali is also corresponding with visual artist Susie Fuller in preparation for the collaborative exhibit "Where Do I Belong?," which opens at the Bellavista Gallery in Chicago on October 16th. Ali and Susie's work will address the theme of "city/rural and nowhere."

Last April, Ali read her poetry at Amnesia in San Francisco along with other contributors to the Bang Out Reading Series. The night's topic was "Naked." Here's the piece Ali read:

“I Used to Sleep Naked Beside You” by Ali Lawrence

A transparency of clouds rests against a knot of city buildings. The bridge suspended midday gives the illusion of connectedness, and simultaneously, of space. I feel all of a sudden a sense of cinema. It’s the very moment of the day where architecture is broader than the ocean, making the world a series of unfamiliar shapes. The man next to me in a white car is smoking with all the windows rolled up. I remember how you slid my grandmother’s ring off my finger and found one of your own to wear it on. The man’s fingers are around the cigarette so loosely I think he might eventually catch on fire. I feel hot and the weather has finally gone to winter.

From the shore of another day I watch the lights turn off and on according to the path of the sun. I think about lighting a candle or going to a psychic. I look for clues to you everywhere. I find an old tank top I’ve kept buried in my drawer that is all white thread, no smell, or you, or anything at all. Your torso: muscles, holes, and cotton.

I try pressing my face against a particular technology meant to draw us closer. Flattened into a science, the room empties and leaves you there. There is falling sky behind your eyes and all over your skin. I have never seen that before, I can’t explain, but it’s as though you are the rain, dust, wind, and middle of the night. Not a monster, just without horizon. Your body a hollow full of sound, like an earthquake, a tight weave of bones and ghosts.

I watched the sun set into a jagged west tonight. It lowered over the planet and split in two. It’s reflection in flames against a house made mostly of glass, and here out in space it’s all edges and numbers and birds and sky. The ocean swallowed the temperature, my sunglass lens, and I cannot remember if we were ever the rooftop, or park, or the balcony, or dusk, or the bus stopping, or even the backseat of your father’s car. I cannot remember the shape of your legs and how your hands are now someone else’s altogether. If when it rained I was standing there, some version of a stranger, crafting a lifetime out of skin and habit. That even with the glare in my eyes, I still saw you look away. An entire population of shadows at your back.

And in the bask of fiction and memories, I can no longer recognize facts versus imitations. I reach into the center of all our words and find only the sounds we never made. If not for the seasons you might have been right beside me separated by windows and clothes and then into each morning you came running. I mapped into an atlas the lines on our skin, and then I thought I heard you say that absence makes the heart a supernova and I just knew all over again.