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In the summer of 1995, I found an old photograph of my father and his third wife in a shoebox under my bed. That started the whole thing. I think it was taken around the time I severed ties with him; his new wife had mailed it to me, she…
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4260
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There are ten things I love about Portland, but I cannot remember them.
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110330
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Some of us, however, turn our secrets over in our souls, churning them with the fury of the howling winds of a January night. They are eroded and shaped and fine-tuned with the precision of a jeweler; the deeper and darker they are, the more brilliant of
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107440
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There are songs I know to not listen to when I am alone.
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810
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There’s a way out of this … there’s always a way.
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156720
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She spilled her neurons across the dissecting board of the violin, breathed deep and forced herself outward with every exhalation. Her molecules mixed with wax and horsehair, and her heart valves arched in unison.
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187187
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...filled with the wildness, the inner sensibility of brilliance.
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