...grandpa's Mind Had Left Us, Gone Wild

It Kills Your Writing If You Try To Manipulate It With Crude Politics.

Her Mind Was Present Because She Was Always Gone. Her Hands Were Filled Because They Grasped The Meaning Of Empty. Life Was Simple. Her Husband Returned And She Served Him With Indifferent Patience This Time. When He Asked What Had Happened To Her Heat For Him, She Gestured To The West. The Sun Was Setting. The Sky Was A Body Of Fire.

There Are Ways Of Being Abandoned Even When Your Parents Are Right There.

When We Are Young, The Words Are Scattered All Around Us. As They Are Assembled By Experience, So Also Are We, Sentence By Sentence, Until The Story Takes Shape.

Every So Often Something Shatters Like Ice And We Are In The River Of Our Existence. We Are Aware.