It wasn’t so much that I was positive. I just wasn’t fully subscribing to such a negative way of thinking anymore.

It seemed like this day could go in so many directions, like a spiderweb shooting out toward endless possibilities.

There was something so heavy about the burden of history, of the past. I wasn't sure I had it in me to keep looking back.

But the original was there as well—more jaded and rudimentary, functional rather than romantic. It fit not just the yellow house but another door, deep within my own heart. One that had been locked so tight for so long that I was afraid to even try it for fear of what might be on the other side

one word could change the whole world

What happened to goodbye?

Every book teaches me something about my process, and they are all challenging in one way or another.