There's a ghost in my house. I hear her singing.
A little girl. Why is it always a little girl?
The light through the window is barely enough to see by, but the sky outside is very pale. Clouds
...
[+]
This bright sun peeking
over the eastern hills
seems to remind you of
the exuberant joy of
...
[+]
Dapper in a topcoat and tails, feet moving fast and graceful as birds skimming still waters, he whirled and swooped, catching my mother, still young and slim, by the waist, bending her backward. She ... [+]
