Pocket Knife
I screamed and plunged my arm in to grab it.
Making visible the "aesthetic envelope" that expresses and shapes feeling, belief, and moral conviction.
I screamed and plunged my arm in to grab it.
The one pretty thing that reminded me of oily, deep-fried food.
Symbols for the first thing that let me pretend to be who I wanted to be.
There’s something more fantastical than ironic about them.
It felt like the kind of physical thing you bring back from Narnia.
“I need a decent bell,” I said.
What a libertine wants, more than anything, is liberty.
I considered it the epitome of bad taste.
“One step ahead.”
How did these Mooninite lite-brite devices end up all over Boston?
My thermos is like a magic wand.
Sometimes we win — without knowing why.
It didn't become visible, for me, until I happened to hear a family story.
"Listen to the ney, what it says / It tells a story of yearning."