The Place Was A Familiar

Lately, The World Felt Fragile, Like A Blown Egg, As If It Might Shatter Beneath A Careless Touch.

It Wasn't Right. He Knew That, But It Was Like Falling: Once You Started You Couldn't Stop Until Something Stopped You.

You Can't Stop Time. You Can't Capture Light. You Can Only Turn Your Face Up And Let It Rain Down.

Short On Money, Long On Hope

Norah Looked At Her Son’s Tiny Face, Surprised, As Always, By His Name. He Had Not Grown Into It Yet, He Still Wore It Like A Wrist Band, Something That Might Easily Slip Off And Disappear. She Had Read About People – Where? She Could Not Remember This Either – Who Refused To Name Their Children For Several Weeks, Feeling Them To Be Not Yet Of The Earth, Suspended Still Between Two Worlds.