About the Feature

Image by Alec Mills

Listen. The moon could
slice through this dark, this
thick water, that which looks
like dark here, and which

looks enough like water. Where
is the animal tonight? He
doesn’t know the answer him

self. Watch me build

a house, build something,
he says. Everyone can hear him.

There are bridges that can take
our weight, and planks of wood
create music as

they react. It could be anyone, and anyone could be dancing.

About the Author

Charlotte Lieberman is a Brooklyn-based essayist, editor, and poet whose work often concerns self-acceptance, gender, meditation, and mental health. You can read her prose in Cosmopolitan, the Harvard Business Review, i-D, Issue, Marie Claire, and Refinery29, and her poetry in the Boston Review, Colorado Review, the Harvard Advocate and Nat.Brut.