How furious she must be, now that she's been taken at her word.

Waste not want not. I am not being wasted. Why do I want?

Axiom: you are a sea. Your eye- lids curve over chaos My hands where they touch you, create small inhabited islands soon you will be all earth: a known land, a country.

There's something to be said for hunger: at least it lets you know you're still alive.

art happens. It happens when you have the craft and the vocation and are waiting for something else, something extra, or maybe not waiting; in any case it happens. It's the extra rabbit coming out of the hat, the one you didn't put there.

So much better to travel than to arrive.

Like the trains, she's never on time and always departing.