I Use My Fiction To Explore My

She Was Starting To Think There Might Be Such A Thing As Karma - That Repetition - Maybe You Lived Through The Same Thing Over And Over Until You Stopped Caring. Maybe Eventually It Got Less Intense, Until It Was Just Nothing.

We Have No Home, She Told Me. I Am Your Home.

What Happened To A Dream Without A Dreamer?

I Felt Like An Undeveloped Photograph That He Was Printing, My Image Rising To The Surface Under His Gaze.

Oleander Time, She Said. Lovers Who Kill Each Other Now Will Blame It On The Wind.