Getting responses on “Through the Milky Way” that it is creating an emotional investment by some of my readers. A gentleman I have know for awhile took the book on a vacation to the beach....

Reading a stranger’s words and finding yourself in them.

I guess it’s also not a good thing when you start relating yourself to a late nineteenth century nut bag who shot himself, but hey, you’ve got to relate to something if you ever want...

Sobs force their way out of my throat. I feel like I’m trapped in a disaster movie where everything is shriveling into darkness and ash. Sunflowers are being uprooted. Puppies are being trampled. Whole cities...

I worried so much about how I looked and whether I was doing things right, I felt half the time I was impersonating a girl instead of really being one.

We did all the tourist crap, but I just wanted to sit in a cafe and watch people

I feel the monster of grief again, writhing in the empty space where my heart and stomach used to be. I gasp, pressing both palms to my chest. Now the monstrous thing has its claws...