Now I think the world is full of tiny, invisible strings we're scarcely aware of, of threaded gossamer so delicate it binds us to people and to places and the nethermost of gestures, to the tiny warblings of living beings, to the musty smell of other rooms. The strings tying us to each other are everywhere. We are connected to others in a spanning web: it is our job not to tear it, to keep it in good repair, even if we cannot see it.

- Robert Vivian, from The Diginity of Crumbs,
an essay in Cold Snap as Yearning