Just when you think you have it all figured out, an epiphany arrives at the higher level of one's consciousness.

In the writers mind, even a backstory has a backstory.

Life moved, as inconstant and fickle as Wind Baby, frolicking, sleeping, weeping, but never truly still. Never solid or finished. Always like water flowing from one place to the next. Seed and fruit. Rain and drought, everything traveled in a gigantic circle, an eternal process of becoming something new. But we rarely saw it. Humans tended to see only frozen moments, not the flow of things.

In all her attempts to be brave and stay strong, she'd never realized it took more courage to change than to stay the same.

When he admires the man he calls his father--a man who is slightly above 'the scum of the earth', what does that say about the man who admire him?

Only the broken beyond repair could know my anguish.