The Book of Delights: Essays

by Ross Gay

(A delight that we can heal our loved ones, even the dead ones.) Oh broken. Oh beautiful.

That the body, the life, might carry a wilderness, an unexplored territory, and that yours and mine might somewhere, somehow, meet.

one of life’s true delights is casting about in bed, drifting in and out of dream, as the warm hand of the sun falls through the blinds, moving ever so slowly across your body. Or, as someone else’s hand (or your own) moves ever so slowly (or quickly) across (or into) your body, the clouds drifting by in the puddles you have made of yourself, or your friend(s). Not to mention the holy nap!

“My Life, My Life, My Life, My Life in the Sunshine”