Every Year, When You're A

Sometimes Our Connection Is Frayed, It Is In Danger, It Seems Almost Lost. Views And Streets Deny Knowledge Of Us, The Air Grows Thin. Wouldn't We Rather Have A Destiny To Submit To, Than, Something That Claims Us, Anything, Instead Of Such Flimsy Choices, Arbitrary Days?

It Was At This Time That She Entirely Gave Up On Reading. The Covers Of Books Looked Like Coffins To Her, Either Shabby Or Ornate, And What Was Inside Them Might As Well Have Been Dust.

She Was Learning, Quite Late, What Many People Around Her Appeared To Have Known Since Childhood That Life Can Be Perfectly Satisfying Without Major Achievements.

I Can't Play Bridge. I Don't Play Tennis. All Those Things That People Learn, And I Admire, There Hasn't Seemed Time For. But What There Is Time For Is Looking Out The Window.

He Was Evidently The Sort Of Person Who Posed Questions That Were Traps For You To Fall Into.