Loosing its identity.

The letters curl beneath her pen.

A strong wind.

Life is short.

This thing called love.

Black velvet.

The bottoms of her feet.

Do they talk to each other?

The fifth element.

A shallow stream.

Narrow it down.

She ate it too.

We all knew it wasn't true.

There's more.

What happens if she breathes?

The seams coming apart.

Her breath was sour.

The big picture.

Street vendors.

After the dishes are done.

She hit a wall.

A different perspective.

The acacia is about to bloom.

Thoughts that have been prerecorded.

Weighted down.

She has her other brain.

On its way to China.

Hoping to find art.