To the memory of my father, who didn’t believe in God but applauded for sunsets anyway: This morning I took the box of memories out of my heart, unpacked it and held the moments and years in my hands. They hurt a bit, but it would hurt more not to have them. Gradually I will put them away again as usual; not tightly locked up, just loosely in a convenient-to-carry package where they can slip out here and there as things in my life jog particular ones out of the pile. That happens a lot. You are nowhere, and everywhere.

Dan “Nurn” Kalikow, 3/2/43-2/26/09