Something that regularly floors me is how every single person you pass on the street has a life story that is special and interesting and unique, and the greatest heartbreak of being alive is how little of our experiences we can truly share with each other, even when we try hard. https://twitter.com/4t9ner/status/1354664298824392706

(Sorry, this really cool and interesting thread made me think about that, for obvious reasons. Not to be a cornball but we lose so much by indulging in prejudice, or even shyness. We miss out on the chance to know and be known, which is the only mark we’ll likely leave.)

My dad can tell me a story about his childhood and the pieces that are missing, or that aren’t explicable because they’re smells and colors and emotional resonances it’s hard to convey, are the whole story! The uniquely My Dad parts are the hardest parts for me to understand!