There is a quiet room in our body for grief, it’s like a shelter from the day. I talk how I talk and no matter what, whether it’s one word or a thousand, language will fill the space. Language is like a gas. I’m a person in search of one word to fill a room with, and sometimes I think that word might be the sound of a piano. I am not a piano and I cannot make you a room, but I can paint a picture where both of these things might be true.