The arrogance of skyscrapers starving for something not glass and metal and concrete. I thought I could hear the lake muttering, "There is no place better to have the blues than Chicago."
A person made not of flesh but of little crystals of perfection she heard in her voice the echo of his Obi ocha. A clean heart.
Blue eyes as soft as the periwinkle the upper world has called but would give no help
Eating garbage at the top of the world,/ we're going to tear a new asshole into the New York restaurant scene
The Book Nook Chronicles feels different. I have a purpose outside of simply writing with this one.