We Used To Call It Her Cinderella

Everybody's Damaged By Something.

The Sound Of The Pages Turning Was The Sound Of Magic. The Dry Liquid Feel Of Paper Under Fingertips Was What Magic Felt Like.

[e]verywhere I'm Looking At Kids, Adults Mostly Don't Seem To Like Them, Not Even The Parents Do. They Call The Kids Gorgeous And So Cute, They Make The Kids Do The Thing All Over Again So They Can Take A Photo, But They Don't Want To Actually Play With Them, They'd Rather Drink Coffee Talking To Other Adults. Sometimes There's A Small Kid Crying And The Ma Of It Doesn't Even Hear.

The Way To My Heart Is Through Belgian Milk Chocolate.

It's Painful To Consider Anything But Writing.