“across the empty highway—how I slowed the car, prayed to survive that terrifying beauty.”

“One spring, the tree—their oak tree—developed a strange rash.”

“As I sat drenching myself in Giono’s world, it was as if I knew I had a soul.”

Fiction has always been a laboratory to study the human condition but with the advancements of technology and science becoming more commonplace, fiction has become a simulation runner to experiment on the plausible consequences of these achievements.

"I loved that, no matter where the characters went underground, they came out into the same space..I could see a double-paged spread showing a huge old fashioned attic — full of the different entry points. To me, the story said, whatever you think you know about the rules of life, forget it, ain’t necessarily true."  

I am very interested in writing about those moments when people judge each other, exploring how people’s judgments of others reflect on their own character and understanding.

People complain about the city. There is never not something to complain about. The sidewalks fill with leaves — red and gold — and these critics still complain. Some people complain and never say goodbye but, sometimes, a complainer vacates.

The dog rushed from between two large junipers flanking the road on the straightaway at the McCallisters’ place, so Denmore stomped the pedal and let the ABS take it from there.

Some of the boxes aren’t hers. It’s some mix-up with the movers. But it’s unclear how they couldn’t be. Could she simply have forgotten the things inside them?