I'm A Binge Writer. I Work In

We All Laced Together—a Brothel Madam, An English Professor, A Mute Cook, A Quadroon Cabbie, And Me, The Girl Carrying A Bucket Of Lies And Throwing Them Like Confetti.

Krasivaya. It Means Beautiful, But With Strength. Unique.

We'd Been Trying To Touch The Sky From The Bottom Of The Ocean. I Realized That If We Boosted One Another, Maybe We'd Get A Little Closer.

My Breathing Slowed. I Shaded Her Thick Chestnut Hair Resting In A Smooth Curve Against Her Face, A Large Bruise Blazing Across Her Cheek. I Paused, Looking Over My Shoulder To Make Certain I Was Alone. I Drew Her Eye Makeup, Smudged By Tears. In Her Watery Eyes I Drew The Reflection Of The Commander, Standing In Front Of Her, His Fist Clenched. I Continued To Sketch, Exhaled, And Shook Out My Hands.

It Amazed Me How Some People Could Touch An Instrument And Create Something So Beautiful, And When Others Tried, Like Me, It Just Sounded Like Mangled Noise.