Sometimes, in life, nothing happens. But, sometimes, nothing happens beautifully.

I grew up sort of middle class, safe and suburban.

Everything was fabulous, even our breakdowns.

There's a part of me that thinks perhaps we go on existing in a place even after we've left it.

I write articles, and I do profiles of members of organizations and associations.

He might have been naive, but he didn't care; he said he's rather die with his heart on his sleeve than end up another cynic.

One look at each other and it was immediately understood that they both needed a clean slate,,, The obliteration of memory.