In the distance I see a lighthouse. The light washes over us and continues on its rotation. This time, I don't know where the light will guide us.

Sometimes we don't know how afraid we are until we've reached a strange door and we don't know what will be on the other side.

I think he's beginning to understand, and understanding is a horrible thing.

And everywhere girls, tumbling from trees like orange blossoms and hitting the earth with sickening thuds. They crack open.

My head is my favorite swimming pool.

I stare at her collarbone that's framed with lace, the hollow of her throat, her shoulders that rise with each rise with the weight of her next breath. We're fragile things. Our bones show through our skin. What would any god want with us?

Hope, that risky, illustrious thing. It should have gone extinct by now, but we keep it alive.