Language is like looking at a map of somewhere. Love is living there and surviving on the land.
I tried to convey to the boy how people's lives are often altered by curved lines read slowly from paper, sand, or stone.
I wanted to explain that trusting is harder than being trusted.
Royal Young's writing is that rare blend of irony and beauty.
For lonely people, rain is a chance to be touched.
They haven't made love for years but sleep holding hands