I love humans and the way that instead of being perfect, they are perfectly themselves–full of potential and full of faults. I love the color and cultures of Africa, the warmth and clarity of the equatorial sun, and the way I feel both in-focus and insignificant under its rays. I love the endless things you can learn from reading–about science and society and relationships and life. Mostly, though, I love sitting with one person and listening to them tell me their story.
How do people touch each other’s lives? How does the expanding the scope of our world affect who and what we think about? Can someone’s story be as effectively told in a voice that is not their own?