I smile wide but it soon fades when I realize I'm in the same body...I died in. I checked my arm and saw that cut. I flinched and wrapped my one arm around that one, tracing the scar.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
I glance at him, swallowing and realize I'm still in the bloodstained clothes too... I stand and glance at the floor, going though my clothes. "I'mma change," I whisper.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
The bigger the issue, the smaller you write. Remember that. You don’t write about the horrors of war. No. You write about a kid’s burnt socks lying on the road. You pick the smallest manageable part of the big thing, and you work off the resonance. — Richard Price
