As A Writer, You Live In Such

I Love The Idea Of Fictional Worlds Kind Of All Cohering In Some Way.

As The Three Of Them Walked Home From The Trees, Nobody Needed To Say It, But Ama Knew. They Had Questioned Their Friendship. They Had Searched And Wondered, Looking For A Sign. And All Along They'd Had Their Trees. You Couldn't Wear Them. You Couldn't Pass Them Around. They Offered No Fashion Advantage. But They Had Roots. They Lived.

She Closed Her Eyes. "i Didn't Know That. I Didn't Know Anything. It Scares Me The Things I Told Myself. But I Would Have Told Myself Almost Anything, Because I Wanted To Believe Him." "why?" "because I Wanted To Be With You.

She Was Astonished, And At The Same Time She Knew. There Were Many Things In Life Like That. You Couldn’t Imagine It, And Then It Happened And You Couldn’t Really Imagine It Hadn’t.

I Was Supposed To Write A Romantic Comedy, But My Characters Broke Up.