Little Mortal Things to be Rearranged |
Our bodies wrinkling space. Words and gods. The infinite variation in all things. Disposable heroes. Longings. The names for things. Glimpse of a small girl walking in the city, one hand holding her mother's and the other running along the wall beside her taking delight in the stone's texture, tapping here & there as if she knows tiny windows will open and pour out light on all the walkers in the city. |
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