Anisa, Izzy, Anissa discussed on LeVar Burton Reads

LeVar Burton Reads


Carefully, Izzy lowers her arm to a niece's gloved wrist. Hooks are tethered to the ring dangling from it and watches as bleed with hops casually down onto her forearm. Anisa exhales. And grins. Izzy grins back. I can't believe how much she's mellowed out. She's really surprisingly comfortable with you. Maybe anissa says mischievous. It's because I'm really good at not asking anything of her. Sure. Is he says? Or maybe it's because you keep talking about how much you hate moth, son of math on me. That prick. Is he laughs? And anissa loves to hear her to see how she tosses her head back when she does. She loves how thick and wiry is his hair is. And the different things she does with it. Today, it's half wrapped in a white and purple scarf fluffed out at the back. Like a bouquet. He's the worst. She continues. He takes flowers and tells them to be a woman. As soon as she acts in a way he doesn't like, he turns her into an owl. It's like he needs to keep being in charge of her story. And the way to do that is to change her shape. Well, to be fair, she did try to kill his adopted son. He forced her into marriage with him. And he was a jerk, too. You're well into this. You are. It's just. Anisa bites her lip, looking at Pluto with. Raising her slightly to shift the weight on her forearm, watching her spread her magnificent wings and settle. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just a collection of bits of things that someone brought together at random and called girl. And then anisa, and then she shrugs. Whatever. Izzy is quiet for a moment. Then she says thoughtfully, you know, there's another word for that. For what? What you just described? An aggregation of disparate things. Anthology. That's what the Mavic nacion is, after all. Anisa is unconvinced. Just one part of someone else's story. She's not an anthology herself. Is he smiles? Gently. In a way that always makes anisa feels she's thinking of someone or something else. But allowing anissa a Windows worth of view into her world. You can look at it that way. But there's another word for anthology. One we don't really use anymore. Floral leads him. Do you know what it means? Anisa shakes her head and blinks. Startled as the doet does a sidewise walk up her arm to lean gently against her shoulder. Is he smiles? A little more brightly, more for her and says, a

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