I Could Disappear From The Face Of

It Was A Strange Feeling, Like Touching A Void.

Time Really Is One Big Continuous Cloth, No? We Habitually Cut Out Pieces Of Time To Fit Us, So We Tend To Fool Ourselves Into Thinking That Time Is Our Size, But It Really Goes On And On.

In The Spring Of Her Twenty-second Year, Sumire Fell In Love For The First Time In Her Life.

That’s How Stories Happen — With A Turning Point, An Unexpected Twist. There’s Only One Kind Of Happiness, But Misfortune Comes In All Shapes And Sizes. It’s Like Tolstoy Said. Happiness Is An Allegory, Unhappiness A Story.

A State Of Chronic Powerlessness Eats Away At A Person