Dear S, This is your warning: a baked cherry tomato has steam trapped inside it and you could burn the roof of your mouth. You may loathe to write Dear at the beginning of a journal entry, but you are dear to me, nonetheless. Even if I don't show it. Even if it has been... Continue Reading →
Notes to Self
I don't know what merit there is in believing that history will not be repeated with you. Where does the heart get that kind of brazen hope? Hope, which tells you that what's been proven to happen with someone else cannot happen with you? There's a word for that - foolhardy. But who's to tame... Continue Reading →