“When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.”
“When I write, I feel like an armless legless man witha crayon in his mouth”
“When I write, I feel like an armless leg less man with a crayon in his mouth.”
“But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.”
“Petey," I whisper, his ear maybe an inch away from my mouth. "It...it feels like...wicked like...home when I'm with you. Home”
“When I write I feel like I can breathe. It’s like yoga for the brain.”