I just think perfection and lasting through the ages is for Greek statues, not us mere humans.

You've always been two people. The Jenna who wants to please and the Jenna who secretly resents in. They won't break, you know. Your parents never thought you were perfect. You did.

When your life has had few events to occupy it, it's amazing how a simple encounter can seem like an entire three-act play.

It can take years to mold a dream. It takes only a fraction of a second for it to be shattered.

I suppose you're right about some perspectives. Just a few weeks ago, I thought you were a dickhead.

Pieces. A bit for someone here. A bit there. And sometimes they don't add up to anything whole. But you are so busy dancing. Delivering. You don't have time to notice. Or are afraid to notice. And then one day you have to look. And it's true. All of your pieces fill up other people's holes. But they don't fill your own.

I created an icicle sculpture in the snow. White on white.