I say a prayer. My fingers quickly find their place again and race to type my thoughts as they flood in. One sentence; two sentences; wait, no, not going to work. The passion of the idea seeps out of me as quickly as it arrived. Delete. "God, please help me out. What can I write about? What sh...

The Dream Final Paper Praxis I Sahna Carmona It was late December, the drifts were piling up in collusion against the rails of the porch. Little could be discerned above the sound of the wind, wrapping itself around the northeast corner of the house. Restless, it continued to bully what r...