No set, just curtains, one spotlight. Huge eyes, a female Oliver Twist, did you have your head covered or was it your character that made you so meek? You were perfect for the role, and I knew then it was your vocation and happiness.
Lungs filled with air that tastes of pine needles and warm earth.
How do you paint a picture of loss, of closed doors, or stunted conversations? The screen goes down, ink pushed, screen lifted, the moment before the lift, each time a chance for disaster or miracle. If it is ruined, can it be fixed with more layers? When should I have known to stop? What colors make indigo?
Quilts are not made to be hung up.
Nursing because it comes naturally, or because they feel hunger for the first time? More love and closeness than when she was inside.
I like spending time with you now, mommy.
Africa is nearly double the size of South America, but on maps they almost look the same size. Someone always says, they used to fit into each other, you know. End of world blockbusters always show the two continents splitting in epic fast forward.
One Story, Told Two Times.
The wet eyes and snot on his cheek the same sparkly sheen, everything else mottled and dry. Dollar bills into the cup like an offering on Sunday, a throaty sound for a thank you. No problem, have a good day.