I Don't Always Write In

The Most Difficult Thing To Read Is Time. Maybe Because It Changes So Many Things.

Celia Laughs And A Curl Of Her Hair Falls Across Her Cheek. Marco Tentatively Moves To Brush It Off Her Face, But Before His Fingers Reach Her, She Pushes Herself Off The Ledge, Her Silver Gown A Billowing Cloud As She Falls Onto The Pile Of Jewel-toned Cushions.

I Am Tired Of Trying To Hold Things Together That Cannot Be Held.

Which Tent Is Your Favourite?" He Asks. "the Ice Garden," Celia Answers, Without Even Pausing To Consider. "why Is That?" Marco Asks. "because Of The Way It Feels," She Says. "it's Like Walking Into A Dream. As Though It Is Someplace Else Entirely And Not Simply Another Tent.

“nothing's Impossible,” Poppet Responds. She Smiles At Him And Jumps, Her Red Hair Trailing Out Behind Her As She Falls.