“Hurt Into Poetry: On Poetry and Greece”By Stephanos Papadopoulos
"It had to be close to midnight already. As I raced up the hill into the larger, darker woods, the hum of cicadas swelled. My lungs heaved. Vomit catapulted into the back of my throat but didn’t spill out. I kept running. Despite months of inquiring, I still only had the vaguest notion of where I was going."
-Glen Hirshberg, The Book of Bunk