Nights, stacked with antagonists.
“When I grieve for my mom now, I grieve for her at her gentlest. The leaves in the treetops turn orange. A chickadee calls out from somewhere in the cityscape.”
“Striking colours provided a glimmer of hope through the subversion of institutionalized hatred, confiding in the expansive possibility of self-expression.”
“In time, she may return to the rubble, / pick bones for a living”
“I came home from work one day in the winter with a bag full of big hunks of white chocolate. I had no intention of eating it and I knew she didn’t like it. It was a small test, I suppose.”
“Home is wherever I’m without you.”
The bottoms of the little creature’s feet were rough, as if they were covered…
People don’t want to be rock stars or actors or authors, they want to be rock stars who act in movies and who just saw their memoir hit the New York Times Bestseller list.
“There’s something beautiful about learning to replace understanding with empathy, about reaching out and touching the tendril even though you can’t stick to it.”
word by Josh Elyea colour by Mojo Wang Jane knows that compartmentalization is the…