3 Quotes by Bryan Washington

She read beautifully, deeply. I don't know how else to describe it.Eventually, I finally asked her what she got out of reading these books by old dead men, what the words on the page had to do with her. The kind of question an idiot asks. But she took it seriously, she pursed her lips.It's just another way to talk to the dead, she said.It's another way to make a way, she said.

So, the next morning, despite everything, I’m at his door.My father’s door.And then I am knocking. Waiting.It’s hard to head home without succumbing to nostalgia, standing where so many versions of yourself once stood, one of a suburb’s magical properties.

How often do you get to learn that lesson? That sometimes you just lose?