We Pencil-sketch Our Previous Life

I Am Always Amazed By People Who Know Something Is Wrong But Still Insist On Ignoring It, As If That Will Somehow Make It Go Away. They Spare Themselves The Confrontation, But End Up Boiling In Resentment Anyway.

I Had No Idea What I Wanted, Only That I Wanted Something, Which Is The Worst Kind Of Wanting.

Danger Comes In Many Forms, I Suppose. For Some People, It Might Be Jumping Off A Bridge Or Climbing Impossible Moutains. For Others, It Could Be A Tawdry Love Affair Or Telling Off A Mean-looking Bus Driver Because He Doesn't Like To Stop For Noisy Teenagers. It Could Be Cheating At Cards Or Eating A Peanut Even Though You're Allergic. For Me, Danger Might Be Getting Out From The Protective Cloak Of My Family And Venturing Into The World More Of My Own, Even Though I Don't Know What- Or Who- Awaits Me.

We'd Said We'd Keep In Touch. But Touch Is Not Something You Can Keep; As Soon As It's Gone, It's Gone. We Should Have Said We'd Keep In Words, Because They Are All We Can String Between Us--words On A Telephone Line, Words Appearing On A Screen.

We Love And We Feel And We Try And We Hope.