When You Do Try To Picture The

Be Willing To Be A Child And Be The Lilliputian In The World Of Gulliver.

If You Lie To Your Husband - Even About Something So Banal As How Much You Drink - Each Lie Is A Brick In A Wall Going Up Between You, And When He Tells You He Loves You, It's Deflected Away.

There's A Space At The Bottom Of An Exhale, A Little Hitch Between Taking In And Letting Out That's A Perfect Zero You Can Go Into. There's A Rest Point Between The Heart Muscle's Close And Open - An Instant Of Keenest Living When You're Momentarily Dead. You Can Rest There.

We Are In The Grip Of Some Big Machine Grinding Us Along. The Force Of It Simplifies Everything. A Weird Calm Settled Over Me From Inside Out. What Is About To Happen Has Stood In Line To Happen. All The Roads Out Of That Instant Have Been Closed, One By One.

If Dysfunction Means That A Family Doesn't Work, Then Every Family Ambles Into Some Arena In Which That Happens, Where Relationships Get Strained Or Even Break Down Entirely. We Fail Each Other Or Disappoint Each Other. That Goes For Parents, Siblings, Kids, Marriage Partners - The Whole Enchilada.