Could it be possible that we possess the ability to reverse engineer and replicate the mechanisms of anxiety, but to the opposite effect? In time I became convinced that we do, and, if you’ll bear with me, I would like to present to you my theory of irrational hope.
To burn a book is an unforgivable act—it is an act of such malice, such cruelty, that once done, there is no return. Those who burn books seal their hearts forever, from love, joy, and all that is truly good in this world.
The act of telling the story of a lived experience or reality is revolutionary; it has the potential to inform, engage, to change hearts and minds even. But what happens if we can’t tell those stories? What if we’re told that they’re just too divisive?
It was a sweltering hot summer day—the smell of freshly bloomed flowers and body odor intermingled in the still air; those brave enough to venture outside were marked by the unforgiving weather: