I breathe slowly and deeply. I make my eyes still under eyelids, I make my mind still, and soon, Sleep, seeing a perfect reproduction of himself, comes to be united with his facsimile.

I think about my mother singing after lunch on a Summer afternoon, twirling in blue dress across the floor of her dressing room

I never understood why Clark Kent was so hell bent on keeping Lois Lane in the dark.

When it's over you look up: the world looks the same but you are somehow different and that feeling lingers for days.

Chaos is more freedom; in fact, total freedom. But no meaning.

I guess no matter what your family is like, you're not surprised.

It comes out so quietly that I have to ask her to repeat it: “It’s just that I thought maybe you were married to me.