Nov 2017
November 11.
Your sister is so small, mother.
She’s made herself a mouse. She hides from anything that sees her. She bit me. I bit back, then I sang her fears to her.
Tomorrow I will check if she’s grown in size.
*— L, from the journal “Winter And Its Waking Breath”
Your sister is so small, mother.
She’s made herself a mouse. She hides from anything that sees her. She bit me. I bit back, then I sang her fears to her.
Tomorrow I will check if she’s grown in size.
*— L, from the journal “Winter And Its Waking Breath”
I have a blog where I post excerpts from books.
These books do not exist.
The titles, content and year the books were published are part of the piece itself.
The link to the blog is in my description.
These books do not exist.
The titles, content and year the books were published are part of the piece itself.
The link to the blog is in my description.
