Yes, the stories are dangerous, she was right. A book is a magic carpet that flies you off elsewhere. A book is a door. You open it. You step through. Do you come back?

What I want does exist if I dare to find it.

It may be that you are settled in another place it may be that you are happy but the one who took your heart wields final power.

I choose this story above all others because it's a story I'm struggling to end.

We bury things so deep we no longer remember there was anything to bury. Our bodies remember. Our neurotic states remember. But we don't.

Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently.

Don’t lie. You know you like to view but not to buy. I have found that I am not a space where people want to live, at least not without decorating first. And that is the stubbornness in me: I do not want to be someone’s little home.