"... I like to think that for that moment, they were stretched out to become a painting, a poem, something for me to design and be and focus on as the world is shaped not by my fingers but by my hopes and I become so deeply embedded I merely forget I am working, reading, eating,..." Disjointed memories in Malik Wilson's first memoir are captured with poetic grace and artisitc mastery. Chronology has little place in teh recounting of bit and pieces of dialogue. Every paragraph is like a correctly answered question by a classmate that you knew, but were hesitant about raising your hand. Malik gets the credit for describing ever day epiphanies and descriptions of love.
With aloof intimacy, Malik uses the physical body to describe teh ways in which humanity digests very day joy and pain.