I read that happiness is not an emotion and that words are destroying our happiness. Can we have it both ways, a literaturacy accelerating across a network of nodules, painting the color of sound in letters, a minor key for the major project of how do I live with the world as it is and my self too. Consider reconsideration: feeding the plants the pieces of your heart that you were saving for your personal self to give to your personal person. The road is full of nails but if there are enough of them you can't feel like a hammer.