The Best Tip For Writing Is Just

They Say That Shoulder Blades Are Where Your Wings Were, When You Were An Angel," She Said. "they Say They're Where Your Wings Will Grow Again One Day.

My Work Explores The Frontier Between Rationalism And Superstition And The Wavering Boundary Between The Two.

We Have Each Other, And Our Stories Twist And Mingle Like The Twisting Currents Of A River. We Hold Each Other Tight As We Spin And Lurch Across Our Lives. There Are Moments Of Great Joy And Magic. The Most Astounding Things Can Lie Waiting As Each Day Dawns, As Each Page Turns.

What Are You?" I Whispered. He Shrugged Again. "something," He Said. "something Like You, Something Like A Beast, Something Like A Bird, Something Like An Angel." He Laughed. "something Like That.

I Sit In My Tree I Sing Like The Birds My Beak Is My Pen My Songs Are My Poems.