Alphabet Soup - Martin, Rylie
12,99 €
inkl. MwSt.

Versandfertig in 1-2 Wochen
payback
6 °P sammeln
  • Broschiertes Buch

""My parents decided to name me Riley but to spell it differently-Rylie. The same letters, just in a different order. And sometimes I think that maybe, just maybe, that's why I've been jumbled from the beginning. I'm composed of the same ingredients as any alphabet soup, but stirred around counterclockwise. Maybe that's why when people try to thumb through my brain they are met with scattered archives. Maybe that's why I can never think straight. Perhaps that's the reason my thoughts and motives are harder to pull apart than sticky spaghetti. I know myself to be made of all the same components…mehr

Andere Kunden interessierten sich auch für
Produktbeschreibung
""My parents decided to name me Riley but to spell it differently-Rylie. The same letters, just in a different order. And sometimes I think that maybe, just maybe, that's why I've been jumbled from the beginning. I'm composed of the same ingredients as any alphabet soup, but stirred around counterclockwise. Maybe that's why when people try to thumb through my brain they are met with scattered archives. Maybe that's why I can never think straight. Perhaps that's the reason my thoughts and motives are harder to pull apart than sticky spaghetti. I know myself to be made of all the same components as any, but in a different order that I have noticed makes all the difference. My brown hair is a mixture of maternal blonde and paternal black. So in a way, I have always been a diluted concoction of two extremes. Maybe this is why there is little firm conviction in the palms of my scrambled hands. And I continue to be mixed up. I think my looks don't reflect my age. I know my age doesn't coincide with my actions. I believe my priorities to be out of whack. And I'm certain that I'm uncertain about nearly everything. This book is a collection of poetry from my muddled mind. It features a myriad of topics that sum up the experience of being a human. These poems were written in sleep, in dim corners, in passenger seats, in bathtubs, in parking lots, in public restrooms, in cabins in the woods, and in apartments in the city. They are an alphabet soup that spells out life, death, love, loss, family, you, and me. They are an alphabet soup that is bitter, sweet, sour, salty, hot, lukewarm, and cold. But most importantly, one that is filling.""