The sun coming in through the window in front of Bez puts a halo around her head, making her look as though she is made of light. She looks over the street outside, unaware that I am awake on the sofa and watching her. I was up far too late last night, and could not […]
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Dreams of Great Import
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The Color of WaterOh, my beautiful Bez, how I dream of you tonight. My sleep has been light, interrupted by dream upon dream of you. In one, we are in a small house in the middle of a field of red poppies, a tiny bent and crooked house, painted white, red brick chimney built at impossible angles. A […]
Juteau on the MoveDevURLHer name is Juteau, although I don’t know if it’s her first name or last. With a name like that, one would think that she was from France or Quebec or Indochina, although I’m not certain if anyone from Laos still speaks French. Not that it matters, really, since she was born in San Diego […]
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