PTP

Could've showed you around, you and your son. God knows you've extended your guest room to pieces. And this mountain, it could've returned a favor. This place used to be big enough for time.

Jolene

The Weepies

It always rained around you
We tried to go inside and it would rain there too
It came pouring through the roof when we traveled underground
Whiskey, water, and tears 'til I thought that we would drown

Jolene, Jolene
Is it still raining everywhere you are?

We didn't hide from it at all
No we just let it fall
In the morning she was gone and everything was dry
The city streets were crowded and I felt like I would die

Now there's sunshine and flowers everywhere
And I don't care

Jolene, Jolene
Is it still raining everywhere you are?

All of these clouds will disappear
Like we were never here
But I swear there was a time I thought that it would never stop
And now I only think about you if it's raining or it's not

Jolene, Jolene
Is it still raining everywhere you are?

PTP

I had been at that breakfast table, years back, you see. I know how clean they keep it, how the cupboard, though never locked, always invites, and how the talk... well, I have forgotten the talk.

I have not gone back, will never go back there (I remember the slant of sun through the windows).

It's a clear thing to me, that table, weeks or years from now. I see her parents looming over breakfast, tomorrow, talking and not talking about her.

HB

Many happy returns of the day.

Nostalgia

Millicent's all heart, but the years wear people out. That's what they do, what they're here for. You could hear them years sing Hi-Ho as they chip off your body, your mind. Your heart. Particularly for Millicent, the years set up camp on her eyes. So finally, she had to tell me, "these eyes were duty-bound to see, to look at you; as if tears weren't labor enough." In the singular breath of gratitude and impatience, I told her to stop staring, stop playing Monica to my Augustine. I told her to pack her eyes up, whistle to her years so they could gather the kettles and pickaxes. I whispered, "Millicent, get sorrows of your own; all my sins come with mirrors." I whispered so things would be light for her as she packed. Then I whispered some more so the years would laugh in her wake.

Woman is born

Many happy returns of the day.

Photo 2

Hahaha.