I Couldn't Tell The Difference Between What

The Burgess Sisters Arrived Together. Tara And Lainie Do A Little Bit Of Everything. Sometimes Dancers, Sometimes Actresses. Once They Were Librarians, But That Is A Subject They Will Only Discuss If Heavily Intoxicated.

He Turns And Walks Away, Moving So Quickly That The Candle Flames Shiver With The Motion Of The Air. “i Miss You,” Isobel Says As He Leaves, But The Sentiment Is Crushed By The Clatter Of The Beaded Curtain Falling Closed Behind Him.

Esse Quam Videri," Celia Says. "to Be, Rather Than To Seem.

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.

„i Forgive You For Stealing My Shawl.“ She Smiles As He Laughs. And Then She Vanishes. A Simple Trick Of Distracting His Attention Long Enough To Slip Out Through The Hall, Despite The Lingering Temptation To Stay.