blind stamping tr. v. People fall in love to feel special. They want someone to confer beauty upon them, a half-hidden mark of grace. Tell me what makes me different from the others. Tell me when you knew I was the one.

ruler n. There are days you realize that your measurement of an inch is really only your idea of an inch. We like to think we have standards. It’s much easier to imagine you’re following the manual official.

end papers n., pl. I’m notoriously bad at finishing. I empty most of the dishwasher. I memorize most of the lyrics. I butcher the last week of the relationship. The very prospect of finality makes me want to fold myself up.

bone folder n. My origami is frightful. I’m awful with straight lines and planes. My mother tried to teach me how to make a bed, good luck with that. It’s gotten worse, maybe because my hands expect to disappoint.

hot foil stamper n. We often complain about being “under pressure” or “in the hot seat”, but these are means of effecting radical change. Apply heat. Dwell. Take on the image of what impresses you.

guillotine n. My boyfriend is afraid he can’t feel. When I grab his ribs, he looks confused. When I tickle his nose with a flower, he sputters. When I’m a tempest, he falls to his knees and begs, “Cut my head off, please.”

cutting mat n. There are things born for taking blade to skin. We call them self-healing because they swell to fill the cuts. But scars never disappear. We’re all self-healing, but all our bodies hum with the scores of our experiences.

bookmark n. I wish I believed in soul mates/destiny/certainty/god’s plan, but the best I can manage is something like an arrow inscribed “You Are Here” on the amusement park map, and an acknowledgment of the thread that gently holds me together.

awl n. Miracles exist mostly outside of the digital realm. No one’s written the code to explain my dreams. When machines fail us, we return to the tools from centuries before, to the muscle we’ve always known, to the sweat.

— selections from “A Bookbinder’s Pecha Kucha for Starving Artists”. Laura Yes Yes