Thoughts of taxes are like barnacles I want to scrape off of my brain.
One of those wild days when we talk about ideas for hours. I feel closest to him then.
He trudges along in his karate uniform, with a violin in one hand and a tennis racket slung over his shoulder.
I'm an ear, and she's a mouth.
Having a ready-made role to step into can be a relief, but what are you sacrificing for the extra comfort?
Their arrogance keeps them from confronting the fears that have hollowed them out.
This is the arrangement they've come up with: He's cut down on his leisure time, and she's compromised her dignity.
For years, he hasn't dared to dream about anything.
There are fascinating stories behind each element on the table.
Three small identical dogs, leashed to a bike rack, peer into the bakery that promises so many treats.
Toddlers want to go at their own pace, examining sidewalk cracks and clods of dirt, and not just be tugged along all the time.
Throwing pebbles, a child tries to knock birds out of a tree. Some twigs crackle, but the birds stick around.
With his finger, chasing the last of the whipped cream in the paper cup.
He continues to tip his chair back, frightened but excited about the moment of reckoning: a mastery of balance or a humiliating fall.