" Oh the hours I spent in the archives wearing cotton gloves Shuffling photos from the night at Sanatorium Halloween parties Emaciated ghosts hiding in those curtains’ creases I’ll let you haunt the world when I write my master’s thesis "

I’m not a poet or a scholar of poetry, so this might be small potatoes in the grand scheme of things…

But the density of that verse is equivalent to a black hole. It’s the intersection of like 30 human lives across multiple time periods and contexts. The unfathomable density of the human experience… I’m confident in saying no model is anywhere close to being close to being close.