But There Was Something Psychological Happening There

The Voice Of The Nickly Reflection Of The Moon Was Not As Deep As You Might Expect. It Was A Singer’s Voice, Though, A Tenor, One That Loved Itself Without Reservation. “i Feel Time Like You Dream. Your Dreams Are Jumbled. You Can’t Remember The Order Of Your Dreams, And When You Recall Them, The Memories Bend. Faces Change. It’s All In Puddles And Ripples. That’s What Time Is For Me.

Every Time A Crime Was Committed By A Muslim, That Person's Faith Was Mentioned, Regardless Of Its Relevance. When A Crime Is Committed By A Christian, Do They Mention His Religion? ... When A Crime Is Committed By A Black Man, It's Mentioned In The First Breath: 'an African American Man Was Arrested Today...' But What About German Americans? Anglo Americans? A White Man Robs A Convenience Store And Do We Hear He's Of Scottish Descent? In No Other Instance Is The Ancestry Mentioned.

She Pulls Away, Pats Me On The Shoulder With Three Mini-pats, Like Those Used To Pet Reptiles.

She Felt Some Measure Of Relief Knowing That In The Very Least, On The Open Road She Would Have Some Time To Think.

Maybe He Hadn't Thought The War Through. It Had Seemed Like Simple Fun When He Had First Pictured It, With A Glorious Beginning, A Difficult But Valor-filled Middle, And A Victorious End. He Hadn't Accounted For The Fact That There Might Not Be Much Of A Resolution To The Battle, And He Hadn't Imagined What It Would Feel Like When The War Just Sort Of Ended, Without Anyone Admitting Defeat And Congratulating Him For His Bravery.