Anakana Schofield Is Part Of A New

That's What Sons Do: Write To Their Mothers About Recall, Tell Themselves About The Past Until They Come To Realize That They Are The Past.

The City Was Bigger Than Its Buildings, Bigger Than Its Inhabitants Too. It Had Its Own Nuances. It Accepted Whatever Came Its Way, The Crime And The Violence And The Little Shocks Of Good That Crawled Out From Underneath The Everyday.

The War Was About Vanity, He Said. It Was About Old Men Who Couldn't Look In The Mirror Anymore And So They Sent The Young Out To Die. Was Was A Get-together Of The Vain. They Wanted It Simple--hate Your Enemy, Know Nothing Of Him.

One Of Those Out-of-the-ordinary Days That Made Sense Of The Slew Of Ordinary Days. New York Had A Way Of Doing That. Every Now And Then The City Shook Its Soul Out. It Assailed You With An Image, Or A Day, Or A Crime, Or A Terror, Or A Beauty So Difficult To Wrap Your Mind Around That You Had To Shake Your Head In Disbelief.

I Don't Really Know What An Adverb Is. A Dangling Participle? That Sounds Really Rude. I Don't Know What Character Is, Really. Plot Seems Vaguely Juvenile To Me. It's All About Language, It's All About How You Apply It To The Page.