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Tuesday, September 07, 2010


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I am breathless.

I don't know how you manage to encapsulate so many different emotions into one little story. I don't know how you can make someone feel terror and intrigue and tenderness at the exact same time. I don't know how you've found a way to make your readers physically experience the exact same phenomena your character is.

All I know is that you better not ever stop doing it.

Masterfully done, good sir.

"something catches"

that got me. I gasped out loud. well done.

This is amazing...

Thank you.

Every now and then something I read blends poetry and prose seamlessly and I'm pretty amazed.

This is one of those Somethings.

You could bend this piece around and tape it together so it just loops around and around, replaying the moment.

There's writing then there's something that reaches further than putting pen to paper to be read. Thank you for this experience.

There's a touch of Lee Child in the way you grabbed on in the opening sentence and never let go for an instant.

I think I'm gaping.

The bit about "where you had rested your head" was a nice way to rip the reader's heart out along the way. Nicely played.

ps No one could write this but you. Classic TB, there.


I mean, I don't even know what else to say. OK , this. Damn. That's what I was thinking through this. Damn. Especially at that 'where you had rested your head' business. And again with '...'

Damn. Just that.

fuck... can I say 'fuck' here? cause that's all I've got. a long drawn out breathy fuck. and then I remember to start breathing again.

I'm so tiresome and predictable. I'm seeing this all metaphorically and I'm thinking yeah, it's just like that. This is shocking and it reads like a dance. I love this.

evocative is an understatement.

visceral is closer.

certainly, you flashed me back. to a highway. and a patch of black ice. and the physics of speed. what was most curious (in {lucky} retrospect) was the moment just *before* the impact. the sudden flash of clarity: put your feet back down on the floor. check seat belt. move that glass bottle. breathe. and then those little hooks of snow that just kept on flying out of the darkness toward the windshield...

This is one of those times when I remember my luck at calling such incredibly talented writers my friends and colleagues.

I loved reading that.

That is all.

I'll be carrying around that image of the bone and tendons as tree and ivy for at least a week. And I can't believe how effortlessly you put someone else important in the car.

Good stuff.

Yikes. And Gosh.

This is why I'm only reading everyone's piece after I wrote mine.

I'm dizzy.

With jealously.

Yee-yee-youch. You've a gift for the tension, my man. I was tense through this whole thing. Fantastic.

I let all my breath out in one big puff when I finished reading the last words.

I'd been holding it the whole time.

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