Saying yes to a moment—”yes”—is saying yes to maybe breaking. Yes isn’t certainty or clarity or sudden ease. Yes is a thousand small broken things that lumber forward, but sometimes glide. Because a thousand tiny little things can move with more swiftness and unstoppability than one single big thing that must first know its path, know the path is clear, move only in the direction of the clear path. A thousand little broken things may halt in a moment, against an obstacle; but in another instant those tiny things re-break themselves. To fall over, around, through—propelled by gravity and the familiarity of brokenness. Of falling. Of coming back together with as much ease as breaking in, through, open.