I Dream Of A Love That Even

I Don't Think I Make Much Of A Distinction Between The 'real' And The 'fantastic.' They Both Seem To Be Threads In The Same Cloth As Far As I'm Concerned.

Do People Choose The Art That Inspires Them — Do They Think It Over, Decide They Might Prefer The Fabulous To The Real? For Me, It Was Those Early Readings Of Fairy Tales That Made Me Who I Was As A Reader And, Later On, As A Storyteller.

And Then I Understood That She Had No Idea What She'd Done To My Family. She Thought Love And Hatred Were Equal.

Abra Demadrigal Didn't Look Young Enough To Be My Sister Anymore. Her Sorrow Weighed Her Down And Aged Her. She Was Still Beautiful, But She Looked Very Far Away. No Wonder Our People Had Raven Eyes, So Distant, So Sad. No Matter How Wise She Was, My Mother Looked Like A Woman Who Hadn't Truely Believed How Much Evil There Was In Our World. Not Until This Moment.

The Evening Had Turned Sweet And Blue.