History is who we are right now. I mean, just because a chapter of life is over, it isn't gone...(Page 303)
Holly SchindlerThe heart is a compass, steers us back to the thing we loved the most.
Holly SchindlerStichwörter: love
He's standing in a cluster of black T-shirts - together, they look like the wilted petals on a single dead flower.
Holly SchindlerStichwörter: flower crowd a-blue-so-dark
There's a book of poetry
in the lines of my hands
that no one wants to read
Stichwörter: poetry loneliness a-blue-so-dark
When he looks back at me, his eyes travel around my face the way fingers dart through the bottom of a drawer, searching for batteries in a blackout.
Holly SchindlerStichwörter: love transparency searching
A camera winks at me from high in the bleachers like we're sharing a secret. Fans in the home section of the Fair Grove High gym smile in envy as I hurry toward the bench, wishing some winking camera had ever, in their entire lives, shared a secret with them.
Holly Schindler...Early summer fireflies are beginning to dance above the spindly green stalks of weeds like lonesome boys looking for something beautiful and shiny to flash back at them. Lovers looking for someone to love.
Holly SchindlerWhen I got close to him, he smelled clean and steamy, like a late June-rain. And I was reduced to a ridiculous, blubbering pile of melting Jell-O. Criminy.
Holly SchindlerStichwörter: love
As we stand there, it hits me how quickly everything changes - how life is like peering into a kaleidoscope, and just as you're looking at a gorgeous pattern you think you'd maybe even like to keep around forever, the colors morph into something completely different, and there's no getting back to that first pattern. No matter how much you'd like to see it again.
Holly SchindlerBut I felt like I'd made a journey to the land of fairytales only to find out that the magical world was identical to the real one. Even in fairytales, the sun still burns, sand still works its way into your bikini bottoms, and the diner next door to your motel still scorches toast.
Holly SchindlerStichwörter: reality dreaming fairytales
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