So, she died. And we cried. And we laughed. And laughed.
And we finished the trip.

How do you cremate someone in a Catholic country?

“This says you have four traveling in your party, is someone not returning with you.”

“Oh, we’ve got her in Ziplocs in our luggage.”

Destiny. Destiny, broken.

All you have to do is trust (Don’t look!) and all will be fine (Don’t look!). Just make it to the end (Don’t look, Don’t!) and she is back in your arms (Don’t look Don’t!). Just walk (Don’t look, Don’t look!) and trust and (Don’t look, Don’t look, Don’t!)

His music is enough to rescue her, but not enough to save.

Tell me a story. Tell me a story about me.

It’s so much easier to just…..forget.

Object 1:

Object 2:

Object 3:

Object 4:

Object 5:

Object 6:

Object 7:

Object 8:

Object 9:

Object 10:

Object 11:

Object 12:

Object 13:

“Mommy, may I count these ducks?”

Object 14:

Object 1: It?

What is ‘IT’ and how do I get it?

Object 2: What is talent, anyway?

Object 3: A lesson in calming the fuck down

Eagerness

Object 4: More questions

Where does unused talent go?

Object 5: Jules Jacobson, looking back.

Thirty years ago, I went to summer camp and I didn’t think I was good at anything. I was a run-of-the-mill kid: liked to be outside, didn’t like to go to school, didn’t have passions or talents of any kind. But then one day at camp they made me get up on stage and do some funny dance — some chicken dance or something…I was mortified. And — I can’t believe I still remember this, it’s been so long…decades…but I remember I heard people start laughing. And I could tell by the uproar that they were laughing with me and not at me… And then I got off the stage and sat back down… and thought, “Maybe, just maybe, I have a little bit of talent”. Back then, I made people laugh. But now? Now I’m a lawyer. Nothing funny about that. At all.