Peel off these dusty wool blankets of apathy and antipathy and cynical desiccation. I want life in all its stupid sticky rawness.
Isaac MarionI notice faint scars on her wrists and forearms, thin lines too symmetrical to be accidents.
Isaac MarionI wince at her use of the word "human." I've never liked that differentiation. She is living and I'm dead, but we're both human. Call me an idealist.
Isaac Marion