A friend of mine once walked from Harlem to the Staten Island Ferry. He told me this after I told him about a fire, an anger that just came one day, took me by the hand and said, open wide. My friend’s story felt incomplete but hit me like stone. Maybe one day he will tell me more. For now, I will enjoy this fire near my heart, walk it out. Hell, maybe I will walk all the way to New Mexico. Maybe I will finally learn to accept that everything, even things that hurt, are impermanent.