Reading Melissa Etheridge's Seminal 1993 Album Made of Two Overlapping Triangles Instead of One by Nick Mehalick is like pausing life.

A gorgeous, subtle, slow burn of a friendship/romance/something-or-other.

That’s the thing about this book: It gives, and then it takes a sledgehammer and bashes it, and bashes you, and bashes your cow.

It’s not the bold blue of the ocean, it’s not the transparency of the breeze; but it’s the gentle, pastel blue that intersects the two.