A Certain Bohemian, Good-witch Sort Of Charm

I Think Of The People Who Commit These Acts As Children. They're In Their 20s, But Like Certain Children, They Have Been Told Only One Story, Over And Over. Like Most Children, They Believe In An Easily Identifiable Good And Evil, And Like Most Children, They Are Capable Of Unthinkable Cruelty.

Any Other Vexations To Report?" He Asks. "i Love The Word 'vexations.'" "it's The 'x.' Nice To Jump Off A 'v' And Bite Into An 'x' Like That." "just The Usual Ones," She Says. "how Was The Weekend?" "vexing. Not Really, I Just Wanted To Say It. You?

..this Indiscriminate Love Feels Entirely Serious To Her, As If Everything In The World Is Part Of A Vast, Inscrutable Intention And Everything In The World Has Its Own Secret Name, A Name That Cannot Be Conveyed In Language But Is Simply The Sight And Feel Of The Thing Itself.

I Love Movies, I Love Television, I Love Narratives Of All Kinds.

There Is Just This For Consolation: An Hour Here Or There, When Our Lives Seem, Against All Odds And Expectations, To Burst Open And Give Us Everything We've Ever Imagined , Though Everyone But Children (and Perhaps Even They) Knows These Hours Will Inevitably Be Followed By Others, Far Darker And More Difficult. Still, We Cherish The City, The Morning, We Hope, More Than Anything, For More. Heaven Only Knows Why We Love It So.