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“And when we go to sleep, we ought to greet the bed completely out of breath from the day. We must have tree sap on our hands from climbing. Sand in our pockets and not know how. There must be some fresh wound on our body somewhere—a cut on the ankle, a bruised eye, or a chipped tooth. Our lips are to be kissed by anyone happy, our fingernails dirty, and we might have brought a bug or two home with us. On our wrist should be two bracelets: one from the hospital and another from the concert that got us there. We should have freed the heart in a streak of spoken desire, kind attempts to hold another hand, and by missing a thousand former lovers that you wish the best. We must find a way to revel in the dissatisfaction of a weary heart.” — Karl Kristian Flores