Ocean Vuong. Just a short moment on earth, we are all beautiful (№ 464898)

I know you asked what it means to be a writer, and I’m writing you some nonsense. But that’s just nonsense, Ma—I’m not embellishing anything. I'm belittling. This is what writing is, after all, about: you stoop so low that the world offers a new merciful perspective, a panorama of little things; the lint suddenly turns into a sheet of fog the size of your eyeball.