My mother thought of my father as half barbarian and half blunt instrument, and she isolated him from his children.
Basketball allowed me to revere my father without him knowing what I was up to. I took up basketball as a form of homage and mimicry.
... the wing of a fly is proof enough of the existence of God for me.
When mom and dad went to war the only prisoners they took were the children
Writing is the only way I have to explain my own life to myself.
I could bear the memory, but I could not bear the music that made the memory such a killing thing.