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“She was illusive. She was today. She was tomorrow. She was the faintest scent of a cactus flower, the flitting shadow of an elf owl. We did not know what to make of her. In our minds we tried to pin her to a corkboard like a butterfly, but the pin merely went through and away she flew.”
(Jerry Spinelli)

The wind inside the letter box shuffles letters unseen, unwritten, and the river of my town stands still for but a moment before breaking into a deafening crescendo.

I am only dreaming, thinking of sounds in the mailbox and the imaginary streets outside my window, I am neither here nor there; I am everywhere and nowhere at once. This is why it is impossible to catch me.

You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me.
C.S. Lewis

My mother said - "Child,
it's cold and damp outside,
and we are outsiders
who tremble at the sight of the sea
in this house where we
have lived our happy lives
under bluer skies.“

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
(Sylvia Plath)