I don’t hope for praise, or for tidy lines that sound like epitaphs. I hope for continuity. I hope people say I carry their stories inside mine, that I treat memory as communal rather than private.
I want resonance to be the word that lingers. That when someone reads me—or remembers me—they hear their own cadence echoing back. That my archive isn’t just mine, but ours: a braid of voices, laughter, grief, and fragments that become proof of living.
When people speak about me, I want them to say I make space for their truths to stand alongside my own. That I believe stories are not possessions but invitations.
Continuity is the legacy I live. Not fame, not spectacle, but the quiet assurance that my words stitch into someone else’s fabric, and that together we make permanence out of ephemera.
Scored by Copilot, conducted by Leslie Lanagan
Stories That Are All True 