"I imagined battles in which people wielded poetry instead of weapons. People standing in lines, having a war of the imagination, of words, attempting to influence each other through ideas. And then I think I went astray. I would love to meet my eight-year-old self right now. I would look her in the eye and I’m sure I would burst into tears for the parts of myself that I still recognize, and also for the parts of me I allowed to be corrupted."