You Treat A Kid With Respect And

The Weird Thing Is That Working Within An Established Story Was Actually Kind Of Liberating. You Know The Beginning And Middle And End, More Or Less, So There's Less Pressure To Figure All That Out.

At That Moment I Was Sure. That I Belonged In My Skin. That My Organs Were Mine And My Eyes Were Mine And My Ears, Which Could Only Hear The Silence Of This Night And My Faint Breathing, Were Mine, And I Loved Them And What They Could Do.

Morning Comes Like A Scream Through A Pinhole.

I'm Interested In The Human Impact Of The Giant Foot Of Misplaced Government. After All, We Encounter It Every Day.

But Everyone Disappears, No Matter Who Loves Them.