"The city is a mirror, cracked and beautiful, reflecting not who we are, but who we are terrified to become. We hold the pieces in our trembling hands, hoping that if we arrange them just right, the light will finally stop cutting us."

"We speak of progress as if it were a straight line, an arrow shot into the void. It is not. It is a slow, agonizing crawl through the embers of yesterday, where every step forward requires the sacrifice of a memory we are not yet ready to lose."