Without Further Warning, The Sky Opens Up

Im A Techno Moron. I Need Help Just To Plug In My Video Camera.

I Told Myself It Was The Snow—she Couldn’t Possibly Get To Philadelphia On The Roads. I Told Myself A Hundred Lies. Children Do That. It’s Amazing The Sorts Of Things You’ll Make Yourself Believe.

It's Only His Thumb Brushing Slowly Across The Lower Edge Of My Lip, But It's As If Time Slows And The Sweep Of That Thumb Below My Mouth Takes Forever. It Is No Spell That I Know Of, But It Holds Such Magic, I Can Scarcely Breath. He Pulls His Hand Away Fast, Aware Of What He's Done. But His Touch Lingers.

In Each Of Us Lie Good And Bad, Light And Dark, Art And Pain, Choice And Regret, Cruelty And Sacrifice. We’re Each Of Us Our Own Chiaroscuro, Our Own Bit Of Illusion Fighting To Emerge Into Something Solid, Something Real. We’ve Got To Forgive Ourselves That. I Must Remember To Forgive Myself. Because There Is A Lot Of Grey To Work With. No One Can Live In The Light All The Time.

She Smiled As Sweetly As A Show Poster For The Glorified, All-american Ziegfeld Girl Just Before Dumping Her Second Cigarette Into Wally’s Fresh Cup Of Coffee.