[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
I’m in her lap, on the big bed with the velvet green bedspread and velvet green cushions. Surrounded by softness–the pillows on the bed, the pillow of her chest. So cushy and comfy. I press and push with my tiny hands, and am startled when she cries out, “Ouch! That hurts!”
How can it hurt when it’s so soft?
This is the first time it occurs to me that what feels soft and cushy and good to me, might not feel the same way for her. That my pleasure can be her pain. It is epochal, this epiphany.
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
How often I’ve played judge and jury in my own trials, and the case was always fixed!
You’re not a writer!
You’re not an artist!
You can’t sing!
Guilty guilty guilty!
Off with her head!
I submitted meekly, allowed myself to be imprisoned with nary a complaint.
Yet where was the evidence?
“Other people draw better.”
“I can’t write like Nabokov.”
“I’m not Sinatra.”
The sentence for these crimes: quit!
Clearly I needed a better defense attorney!
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
We use cookies to customize your experience, to improve the content we deliver to you, and sometimes to show you relevant advertising on social networking sites like Facebook or Instagram. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you give your consent to our cookie use. (Click the X in the upper right corner to close this notice.)