I'm concerned about the unknowability of other people.
It's hard work being a person, you have to do it every single day.
Bookish people, who are often maladroit people, persist in thinking they can master any subtlety so long as it's been shaped into acceptable expository prose.
These are frightening times...when she feels herself annointed by loneliness.
Here's to another year and let's hope it's above ground.
Why should men be allowed to strut under the privilege of their life adventures, wearing them like a breast full of medals, while women went all gray and silent beneath the weight of theirs?