Everything In Life Is Writable.

Maybe Forgetfulness, Like A Kind Snow, Should Numb And Cover Them. But They Were A Part Of Me. They Were My Landscape.

I Have Stitched Life Into Me Like A Rare Organ

Doreen Had Intuition. Everything She Said Was Like A Secret Voice Speaking Straight Out Of My Own Bones.

And I Identify Too Closely With My Reading, With My Writing.

I Have The One Person I Could Ever Love In This World. Now I Must Work To Be A Person Worthy Of That.