On Touch

Loss And Game of Thrones

Part one of a four-part series about…touch?

I think I might be a ghost and that’s what’s making it so hard to write. I’ve just finished the second draft of a memoir. It feels like I’ve written my entire life out of me, like all that remains is the absence of something, a series of thin lines and wavering shadows outlining the space where my self used to be.

I don’t know that this is a problem. It’s actually kind of nice. Of what use is a self in a world like the one we now have, I can’t help…