A story is a language for presenting emotion, a way of seeing and hearing, a way of being, of worlding yourself. A story seeks to reconstruct the catastrophe that’s already happened so that next time it happens we will be better prepared for it, but it never happens, not in the way we imagine. A story is a liberation and a confinement disguised as an escape, if only we knew on which side of the bars we sat. A story is no remedy for forgetfulness, merely proof that it exists. It is dialectical - it heals with wounding. A story is not a journey so much as its anticipation, a path that opens hope to the possibility that love is worth striving for, but alas, who really knows if it leads anywhere at all, and it may not even be a path.