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She might as well have said she was the goddess Isis. Writers were the source of everything he loved best.
“I’m glad you know that poetry ought to be heard, not read.”
“The man who waits for ‘someday’ waits all his life …” She swirled her straw lazily, her nails lacquered red.
she wanted me to dress and behave as a lady, while I believed that I could have been captain of my own pirate ship if only she’d stop interfering.
It’s not that I wanted to misbehave, but the most interesting things were always forbidden.
My curiosity was a demon that lurked inside me, awake and watching. When something caught its attention, the demon took hold. I became what my mother called shvibzik—the imp.
