Books don’t offer real escape, but they can stop a mind scratching itself raw.
I was disoriented by the idea that men should ever leave the forest.
You don’t need to know what you’re escaping from to become a fugitive.
The city is sore with movement, but still it oscillates. Busy people churn through grey-toned streets, their briefcases held close, rustling against trouser legs. The collective machine is tired, but each worker drives on. Gleaming...
When introverts go to church, we crave sanctuary in every sense of the word, as we flee from the disorienting distractions of twenty-first-century life. We desire to escape from superficial relationships, trivial communications and the...
There’s nowhere else to escape to … Except in a wooden box, that is.
There is an abandonment, an escape, that physical labor bestows.