“Why is this year different from all the other years of my life? All the other years you were with us, Tatty, but this year, you’re no longer here”
I watch it again and again, knowing that secrets to life are hidden in that one minute and 32-second clip. I intend to keep watching until I discover the secret
Was it time for the picture to be stretched back to its original shape? Whom could I possibly trust with it?
I don’t know who’d arranged for the printing of those booklets, who’d chosen those few words, but I do know that that last word spoke everything
When I was in eighth grade, a teacher asked us to write an essay about what we feared most. I wrote that I feared being told in the middle of class that I had a phone call
“He’s much more okay than you remember. He’s changed.” She says this because I look skeptical. Duvi, that skinny boy, that branded child?
