Dace ჯ’s Reviews > Four Seasons in Rome > Status Update

I agree to live now, live as sweetly as I can, to fill my clothes with wind and my eyes with lights, but I understand I'll have to leave in the end.

To live is to make leavings. Hair, dust, trash, children, love letters, old shoes, bones.

That's the miracle of writing, the place you try to find - when the room, your body, and even time itself cooperate in a vanishing act.

This, I suppose, is what it means to look after two babies: any attempt to make you feel as if you were at the center of something is hopelessly hilarious.

You find your way through a place by getting lost in it.

There is a circle of understanding, an unspoken fellowship, between parents of multiple babies.

Is this what it means to be a parent - to constantly fail to be in control of anything?

I'm thankful that everything sweet is sweet because it is finite.

To be a nonfluent foreigner is to pass through one gate only to find yourself outside two more.