Ode to the Impossible Task
A dryer full of shredded foam sent me back to an old Russian fairy tale, and to a young girl named Vasalisa sorting mildewed corn by hand in the witch's house. On the value of the impossible task, why I've stopped wanting to get there faster, and how to tell when it's time to find a guide for the forest.
I Will Follow Him
A lazy spa-day conversation, a hammock, and the short list of people I will actually follow. Not because they have authority over me. Because they have earned something harder to build and far easier to lose.

