The Circus Arrives Without Warning.

The Past Stays On You The Way Powdered Sugar Stays On Your Fingers. Some People Can Get Rid Of It But It’s Still There, The Events And Things That Pushed You To Where You Are Now.

Wine Is Bottled Poetry, He Thinks.

I Keep Waiting For Things To Get Back Down To Whelming, But They Stay At Overwhelming.

I Do Not See As Well Without Her. I Do Not Hear As Well Without Her. I Do Not Feel As Well Without Her. I Would Be Better Off Without A Hand Or A Leg Than Without My Sister.

„i Forgive You For Stealing My Shawl.“ She Smiles As He Laughs. And Then She Vanishes. A Simple Trick Of Distracting His Attention Long Enough To Slip Out Through The Hall, Despite The Lingering Temptation To Stay.