I also had big dreams for myself.
As a child, I’d sit by the window on rainy days, staring outside until the trees looked like veins across the sky. In that blur, I envisioned the best “me” a seven year old could:
From the writer’s workshop at the Astoria Bookshop. Unedited. Terribly punctuated. It’s gold, people. HA HA HA. What the hell do you mean, “Snow that isn’t snow”. I mean, seriously. I’m thinking of ashes in my eyelashes, thinking of debris, thinking of standing outside on the curb because my house has just burned down. It’s […]
...and other Ideations 