He [ma's Tooth] Was Part Of Her

It's All Real In Outside, Everything There Is, Because I Saw An Airplane In The Blue Between The Clouds. Ma And Me Can't Go There Because We Don't Know The Secret Code, But It's Real All The Same. Before I Didn't Know To Be Mad That We Can't Open Door, My Head Was Too Small To Have Outside In It.

I Thought One Way To Try To Hold On To The Power Was To Write The Script Myself. That Way, I Could Say To Filmmakers, "i'm Not Asking You To Hire Me Unseen. I'm Just Saying, 'here's My Script. Can We Work Together?'" So That Worked Out Well.

Seriously, I Think What All The Puzzling Over Parenthood I Had To Do To Write [a Novel] Room Taught Me Is That Children Can Thrive In A Remarkable Range Of Situations.

When I Tell Her What I’m Thinking And She Tells Me What She’s Thinking, Our Each Ideas Jumping Into The Other’s Head, Like Coulouring Blue Crayon On Top Of Yellow That Makes Green.

This Is A Bad Story.” “sorry. I’m Really Sorry. I Shouldn’t Have Told You.” “no, You Should,” I Say. “but—” “i Don’t Want There To Be Bad Stories And Me Not Know Them.