The Reason I Write About Beautiful Things

I write about beautiful things because I live in an ugly place in an ugly world. Where every corner I pass has the story of a black person’s murder written upon it and then erased, where men broke into my daughter’s school in ski masks just last week and she told me about it laughing, where a child I took with us on family trips and hosted at sleepovers just this week tried to commit suicide by overdose at 16 years old, where many of the people I loved are in caskets, where we are surrounded by death, not just death but allowed death, encouraged death, blood rite, sacrificial death…