Fiction Is The Only Way I Know

It Didn't Matter That I Wore Clothes From Sears; I Was Still Different. I Looked Different. My Name Was Different. I Wanted To Pull Away From The Things That Marked My Parents As Being Different.

He Owned An Expensive Camera That Required Thought Before You Pressed The Shutter, And I Quickly Became His Favorite Subject, Round-faced, Missing Teeth, My Thick Bangs In Need Of A Trim. They Are Still The Pictures Of Myself I Like Best, For They Convey That Confidence Of Youth I No Longer Possess, Especially In Front Of A Camera.

Try To Remember It Always," He Said Once Gogol Had Reached Him, Leading Him Slowly Back Across The Breakwater, To Where His Mother And Sonia Stood Waiting. "remember That You And I Made This Journey Together To A Place Where There Was Nowhere Left To Go.

Do What I Will Never Do.

It Is A Magical Thing For A Handful Of Words, Artfully Arranged, To Stop Time. To Conjure A Place, A Person, A Situation, In All Its Specificity And Dimensions. To Affect Us And Alter Us, As Profoundly As Real People And Things Do.