There's nothing quite like a real . . . train conductor to add color to a quotidian commute

I got nice rejections explaining that historical fiction was a difficult sell. But I kept trying.

Wherever you walk, I go with you. Selah.

One of his tears fell in my mouth, where it became a blue sapphire, source of strength, source of strength and eternal hope.

Biblical names are hot again.

I could not get my fill of looking. There should be a song for women to sing at this moment or a prayer to recite. But perhaps there is none because there are no words strong enough to name that moment.

In Egypt, I loved the perfume of the lotus. A flower would bloom in the pool at dawn, filling the entire garden with a blue musk so powerful it seemed that even the fish and ducks would swoon. By night, the flower might wither but the perfume lasted. Fainter and fainter, but never quite gone. Even many days later, the lotus remained in the garden. Months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again, momentary but undeniable.