Truly, the way she viewed her life was through the lilt of poetry. Words cradling all love and fear and hopes in their sinewy formations; stringy and tough and dependable are words. Read More
That’s the trouble with dreamers. It’s never as good as what was, or what could be, or the coffee talk. It’s never now. It’s some other time and place. Read More
Anyway she was bored. Beneath her feet the crust of the earth was churning. Tectonic plates scraping against each other hundreds of miles beneath her. Read More
X stared at his text message. The music was building. Electronic synths climbing towards the chorus. Everything felt dramatic. She... Read More
She liked to imagine, as she would in hotel rooms from time to time or when driving other people’s cars, that they were hers and see how each new environment could produce another facet of herself she never knew about. Read More
X sat and faced her computer. Tonight was the night she would pick back up the novel of her life. Read More