Curate, connect, and discover
“Sometimes in later summer I won’t touch anything, not the flowers, not the blackberries brimming in the thickets; I won’t drink from the pond; I won’t name the birds of the trees; I won’t whisper my own name. One morning, the fox came down the hill, glittering and confident, and didn’t see me—and I thought: so this is the world. I’m not in it. It is beautiful.”
— Mary Oliver, from October