Really: it’s about love. To pay attention to something, real attention, engenders an act, on some level, of love. I was walking to the river today and suddenly became overwhelmed with intense love for humanity and what we have created. Thomas Edison worked it out, and we’ve continued to use what he discovered worked. So, we must now find out what we need in these days and ages, and figure out what works, and carry on. There’s real poetry in the real world: For sure. The real world is my muse. There is no one else who I love more dearly, more passionately, whose relationship with me is one of give and take, love and hate (”why, cruel world. Why!”), and who I talk to with more frequency, more eloquency, more delinquency. I am the daughter, mother, lover and shin bone of this earthy, airy, firey, watery world, and I love being here.
— Paper Castle
