I Am Haunted By The Ghost Of

The Circus Arrives Without Warning.

...the Thrill Of Being Surrounded By Something Wondrous And Fantastical, Only Magnified And Focused Directly At Her. The Feel Of His Skin Against Hers Reverberates Across Her Entire Body, Though His Fingers Remain Entwined In Hers.

There Is A Movement Happening, A Quiet One. A Low-profile, Low-resolution Revolution. Comprised Of Writers And Dreamers, Of Guerrilla Artists And Thought-ninjas. Those With Something To Say. They Communicate Through Text Inscribed On True Public Spaces, Rather Than Blogs And Forums. Choosing Fewer Words, Even Without Being Bound By 140 Character Limits. Using Ink Instead Of Pixels. Sending Messages In Living, Breathing Space. Pens Scream Louder Into The Void. Even If Permanent Ink Is Not Aptly Named.

We Lead Strange Lives, Chasing Our Dreams Around From Place To Place.

Kelly Link Is Inimitable. Her Stories Are Like Nothing Else, Dark Yet Sparkling With Her Unique Brand Of Fairy Dust. This Is The Most Marvelous Kind Of Trouble To Get In.