The sky is already purple; the first few stars have appeared, suddenly, as if someone had thrown a handful of silver across the edge of the world.

Some fates are guaranteed, no matter who tries to intervene.

It was a great escape for me and it was a way to take a break from what was going on in my own world, to go into another world.

The grass he walked through was new and a sweet smell clung to his clothes. There was blue dye on his hands from the wild irises... that the color of the sky was a shade that could never be replicated in any photograph, just as Heaven could never be seen from the confines of Earth.

They were written on cheap blue notebooks bought by poor women. I'm interested in folk tales in the way that medicine and magic in women's stories are all kind of combined.

Maybe some love was guaranteed. Maybe it fit inside you and around you like skin and bones.

Only her death could prove her innocence; a circle of impossible, deathly judgement.