There is hunger steadily growing within me I cannot comfortably call my own. I spend hours staring into lights envying the success of others. I loft the past into the peaks of my imagination, where they can tease me for months. Characters I invent revisit me in the quiet rains of this house. Wrap up your arm to tap your finger on the table, or whatever else will get me through the day. These superlative words of mine hopefully mask the taste of my half-baked ideas for you in a way they certainly don't coming out of mine. What's an honest engagement with a text look like? What does honest engagement with anyone look like? Do you continue reading because you care or because there are more letters after and below these?