This article is continued from 
page 6 of this insert, “We put a lit-
tle desk on the Diag. Here’s what 
we found”.

Prompt #5. I see a glimpse of it 
every day
Something about the little 
desk seems to bring out what 
people are really feeling. An ear 
to listen. The words come ear-
nest, open and big-hearted when 
there’s no one watching.
Gathered together in the liter-
ary space of the page, people share 
their responses to the prompt:
“I see a glimpse of a smile 
and a future and a feeling I al-
ways strive for but haven’t quite 
arrived.”
“I see a glimpse of it every 
day. It’s a small spark barely 
bright enough but it’s enough.
“I see glimpses of futures that 
are or could be or will not and you 
are somehow part of them all.”

Prompt #6. how I’ve grown and 
changed
Some passersby wrote about 
the view from the desk — flow-
ers, strangers sitting — and oth-
ers wrote about the people they 
love. “I wish that I could tear my 
ribcage open so that our hearts 
could touch,” reads one.
“I have grown to be so much 
happier,” said another, beside 
them, inside a drawing of an owl. 

Prompt #7. I see it differently 
now
While setting up the desk, 
we’d include some cozy decora-
tions, like an itty-bitty ceramic 
brown bear (until it disappeared) 
and a small green candle (until it 
fell off the table and broke).
“Sorry about the candle!” reads 
one entry, above a sketch of a small 
tombstone. “R.I.P. 2023-2023.”

And above that: “you are a 
ray of sunshine.”
For this prompt, a page 
filled with illustrations of giddy 
animals and a happy person in a 
hat, presumably written by a very 
young person, in the handwrit-
ing of someone learning how to 
write — who would like to be a 
park ranger.

Prompt #8. something worth 
being brave for
Other times, a person will fill 
up a whole page with the energy 
of their words, inspiring others 
toward bravery:
“Love is worth being brave 
for,” or “YOU are worth being 
brave for!! Take the risk if it will 
do good! Sending love ur way!”
And on separate pages, more 
encouragement appears:
“It’s worth being brave for 
yourself and your dreams. Stay 
true and try your hardest.”
Or someone’s proudest mo-
ments:
“Call it bravery when I ask 
you to stay,” a writer begins. 
“Call it bravery when, at the end 
of the night, I let you put your 
arms around me, and we go to 
sleep together, and in the morn-
ing we open the blinds and let 
the light come in. This, itself, is 
a heroic feat.”

Prompt #9. which can only ex-
ist in this moment
For this prompt, the journal 
and its contents, were an answer 
in itself. Every entry, written in 
response to another, was some-
thing that could only exist then 
— in its own way.
In this moment: overflowing 
love.
“Things never really belong 
to us BUT that’s okay. I loved get-
ting to hold that piece of time.” 

“I’ve seen you around,” came 
a response. “I love admiring you.”
“The strongest trees still 
sway,” another said.
“Sometimes, 
you’re 
tired 
and hungry and sad,” someone 
chimed in. “Then you see your 
friend’s face at the door. Find 
your people. They make life 
brighter.”

Prompt #10. which I hope to 
witness again
We learned a lot from the 
little desk. Managing the journals 
and providing this space showed 
how caring — and deserving of 
care — everyone and everything 
is. Here I am, the journal seems 
to say. Here we are. You are 
loved. I love you.

For an ending note, we’ll let 
the words speak for themselves: “I 
hope to witness a world where we 
are one, where love can flourish 
and the earth can heal. Although 
unfortunately I can’t say that I’d 
witness this again … I believe that 
I’ve seen glimpses of it in the smiles 
and actions of many around me. It 
is a beautiful thing.”

6 — The Statement // Wednesday, April 12, 2023

Photos courtesy of Canopy Magazine