My Soul Grazes Like A Lamb On

Walking The Streets Of Charleston In The Late Afternoons Of August Was Like Walking Through Gauze Or Inhaling Damaged Silk.

A Library Could Show You Everything If You Knew Where To Look.

The Safe Places Could Only Be Visited; They Could Only Grant A Momentary Intuition Of Sanctuary. The Moment Always Came When We Had To Return To Our Real Life To Face The Wounds And Grief Indigenous To Our Homr By The River.

My Father Wouldn't Let Me Take Typing In Childhood.

Happiness Is An Accident Of Nature, A Beautiful And Flawless Aberration.