In a world beyond this one, that river goes on singing sweetly, enchanting us with what we want to hear, shaping what we need to see in order to keep going. In those waters, all disappointments are forgotten, our mistakes forgiven. Gazing into them, we see a strong father. A loving mother. Warm rooms where we are sheltered, adored, wanted. And the uncertainty of our futures is nothing more than the fog of breath on a windowpane.

They kept the lie going, and the people loved it.

Nobody Wants to be themselves. That's why there's tv. -Ephigenia.

Warning: If you are insufferable, do not walk here. We shall eat you down to the marrow.

The sun has blessed you," Sarita used to say. "Look how he has left his kisses on your face for all to see and be jealous." "The sun loves you more," I said, rubbing my hands over her dry arms, the color of an aged wine gourd, and she laughed. But this is not India and we are not prized for our freckles here. The sun is not allowed to show his love.

When the world moves forward too fast for some people, they try to pull us all back with their fear.

Retribution is a dog chasing its tail.