“All we are is dust in the wind.”

“Or whales in an elevator.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

All about the threshold.

By the time the draft is done, you’ve lived a dozen different mental lives.

The fun isn’t in making it realistic — it’s in making it so absurdly plausible the reader starts questioning their own furniture.

The first row is always seductive. It knows you.

It’s the algorithm’s opening handshake — warm, firm, confident. “Welcome back,”

It was weird and kinda fun.

Useful creations by practical imagination.

So many foreign stories…

Music is everywhere. Not just from us.

They have there purpose… when you don’t misplace them.

I am a bit disappointed that we don’t have delivery drones like in the cartoon ‘The Jetsons’… well where I live I mean.

Paper, thread, glue, leather… patience.

I doubt I am what I eat.

Court side, back stage, upper deck, skybox, top tier, and grand stand. They don’t get any better for me.

Should we even care why? Or is it truly important?

Not just a drop of paint.

My loves have made me… yup.

Why would anybody? But they do, anyway.

A look that kills. Or comforts?