Something About Giving In Without

But It Was Smell That Carried Memory.

Every Life I Start With Her, My Original Sin. I Know Myself Through Her.

Love Didn't Necessarily Look The Way You Expected It To.

She Got Under The Covers And Put Her Arms Around The Bag. She Could Smell Tibby. It Used To Be She Couldn't Smell Tibby's Smell In The Way You Couldn't Smell Your Own; It Was Too Familiar. But Tonight She Could. This Was Some Living Part Of Tibby Still Here And She Held On To It. There Was More Of Tibby With Her Here And Now Than In What She Had Seen In The Cold Basement Room That Day.

For Some Reason Our Lives Were Marked By Summers. . . . Summer Was The Time When Our Lives Joined Completely, When We All Had Our Birthdays, When Really Important Things Happened