He said, You're so tiny, like a doll, you look like you might break. I wanted him to break me. Part of me did.

Any love that is love is right.

Ugster vinyl pumps, Partridge Family records, plastic daisy jewelry, old postcards. . . . It's a magpie Christmas market.

It was like when we were little kids and we played games on the ivy-covered hillside in the backyard. We were warriors and wizards and angels and high elves and that was our reality. If someone said, Isn’t it cute, look at them playing, we would have smiled back, humoring them, but it wasn’t playing. It was transformation. It was our own world. Our own rules.

After his kisses and hugs it feels like without them my body will fall apart into pieces.

You are so intense. Like a storm. It's shocking how intense you are.

Just like any woman,...we weave our stories out of our bodies. Some of us through our children, or our art; some do it just by living. It's all the same.