Because a mother’s love is God’s greatest joke.
And dusk fell because it suited his skin.
I must console him for the distance we have moved from the place where he stopped.
People do not change, they are merely revealed.
I have no place left to live but in my own heart.
Sometimes I will spend two or three days not speaking to anyone outside of the immediate family when they come home, and then I find that I’ve been emailing like fury. Once you give in to that silence, it’s quite nice.
Write whatever way you like. Fiction is made of words on a page; reality is made of something else. It doesn’t matter how “real” your story is, or how “made up”: what matters is its necessity.