The human child – so much cannier at times than the stupefyingly ponderous adult.

Liesel crossed the bridge over the Amper River. The water was glorious and emerald and rich. She could see the stones at the bottom and hear the familiar song of water. The world did not deserve such a river.

She was like a lone angel floating above the surface of the earth, laughing with delight because she could fly but crying out of loneliness.

It was a Monday and they walked on a tightrope to the sun.

She kept watching the words.

The bittersweetness of uncertainty: To win or to lose.

When her hands reached out and poured the tea, it was as if she also poured something into me while I sat there sweating in my cab. It was like she held a string and pulled on it just slightly to open me up. She got in, put a piece of herself inside me, and left again.