A Light Snow, A Snow

Dialogue's A Method Of Revelation, Of Course. A Few Words Of Dialogue Can Reveal Worlds About A Character.

The Myriad Past, It Enters Us And Disappears. Except That Within It, Somewhere, Like Diamonds, Exist The Fragments That Refuse To Be Consumed. Sifting Through, If One Dares, And Collecting Them, One Discovers The True Design.

Events Need Their Invitation, Dissolutions Their Start.

Not Necessarily Narrow So Much As Impatient, Intense.

I Write Down Portions, Maybe Fragments, And Perhaps An Imperfect View Of What Im Hoping To Write. Out Of That, I Keep Trying To Find Exactly What I Want.