The Living Deserve Attention, Too

Well, It's My Voice, So It's More Accessible That Way, And There Are Also All Sorts Of Things Like Plot And Timelines That Are Already Known Entities, So For Me, It's Very Different From Writing Fiction.

The Stains Could Be Seen Only In The Sunlight, So Ruth Was Never Really Aware Of Them Until Later, When She Would Stop At An Outdoor Cafe For A Cup Of Coffee, And Look Down At Her Skirt And See The Dark Traces Of Spilled Vodka Or Whiskey. The Alcohol Had The Effect Of Making The Black Cloth Blacker. This Amused Her; She Had Noted In Her Journal: 'booze Affects Material As It Does People'.

I Wish You All A Long And Happy Life

She Was Unaware That She Was Somewhat Of A Celebrity Up In Heaven. I Had Told People About Her, What She Did, How She Observed Moments Of Silence Up And Down The City And Wrote Small Individual Prayers In Her Journal, And The Story Had Travelled So Quickly That Women Lined Up To Know She Had Found Where They’d Been Killed. She Had Fans In Heaven..... Meanwhile, For Us, She Was Doing Important Work, Work That Most People On Earth Were Too Frightened Even Too Contemplate.

For Me, Heaven Would Be A Lack Of Alienation. The Whole Time I Was Growing Up, I Felt Comfort Was Inherently Evil. I Think That For Me Heaven Isn't About Couches And Milk Shakes And Never Having A Troubling Thought Again.