There's A Lot Of Thievery Involved In

It Doubles Your Perception, To Write From The Point Of View Of Someone You're Not.

She Moved From Being A Young Woman Into Having The Angular Look Of A Queen, Someone Who Has Made Her Face With Her Desire To Be A Certain Kind Of Person. He Still Likes That About Her. Her Smartness, The Fact That She Did Not Inherit That Look Or That Beauty, But It Was Something Searched For And That It Will Always Reflect A Present Stage Of Her Character.

Moments Before Sleep Are When She Feels Most Alive, Leaping Across Fragments Of The Day, Bringing Each Moment Into The Bed With Her Like A Child With Schoolbooks And Pencils. The Day Seems To Have No Order Until These Times, Which Are Like A Ledger For Her, Her Body Full Of Stories And Situations.

You Think That You Are An Iconoclast, But You’re Not. You Just Move, Or Replace What You Cannot Have. If You Fail At Something, You Retreat Into Something Else. Nothing Changes You.... I Left You Because I Knew I Could Never Change You. You Would Stand In The Room So Still Sometimes, As If The Greatest Betrayal Of Yourself Would Be To Reveal One More Inch Of Your Character.

He Will Hear The Rain Before He Feels It, A Clicking On The Dry Grass, On The Olive Leaves.