Your First Kiss Is Destiny Knocking.

I Watched My Beautiful Sister Running . . . And I Knew She Was Not Running Away From Me Or Toward Me. Like Someone Who Has Survived A Gut-shot, The Wound Had Been Closing, Closing - Braiding Into A Scar For Eight Long Years.

The Dead Are Never Exactly Seen By The Living, But Many People Seem Acutely Aware Of Something Changed Around Them. They Speak Of A Chill In The Air. The Mates Of The Deceased Wake From Dreams And See A Figure Standing At The End Of Thier Bed, Or In A Doorway, Or Boarding, Phantomlike, A City Bus.

I Wanted To Be The Moron Of The Family, Because Morons Seemed To Have More Fun, More Freedom And More Personality.

Each Time I Told My Story, I Lost A Bit, The Smallest Drop Of Pain.

To Transform Experience And Thought Into Language And Narrative - That Is Beautiful Even If That Beauty Is In Brokenness.