abandon form
Anything goes.
My mother has been dead for two hundred and forty-three days. I’ve had plenty of things in my refrigerator for longer.
No matter how you try to ignore it, you look like him. You look like your father.
Sitting at the bar on Pacific Avenue. With the seashells in the walls. Same bartender from last year, still here, making the same lethal Mai Tais.
Sound engineers believe Alan Rickman possessed the perfect male voice. Early acting teachers told him he sounded like he was speaking from the back of a drainpipe.
