بریده‌های کتاب A Psalm for the Wild-Built

It is enough to exist in the world and marvel at it. You don’t need to justify that, or earn it. You are allowed to just live.

Do you not find consciousness alone to be the most exhilarating thing? We’re just atoms that arranged themselves the right way, and we can understand that about ourselves. Is that not amazing?

A forest floor, the Woodland villagers knew, is a living thing. Vast civilizations lay within the mosaic of dirt: hymenopteran labyrinths, rodential panic rooms, life-giving airways sculpted by the traffic of worms, hopeful spiders’ hunting cabins, crash pads for nomadic beetles, trees shyly locking toes with one another.

Despite these blessings, sometimes Dex could not sleep. In those hours, they frequently asked themself what it was they were doing. They never truly felt like they got a handle on that. They kept doing it all the same.

Not all wounds were capable of healing.