morsels of life tasted in text
These hands are simple. Simplified. Have been pared back to bone so they can again create.
Perhaps not-quite-fireflies, the gnats hold a peculiar place in my heart. Familiar. So fine like they almost don’t exist. Finding their time to enjoy the air space quietly unoccupied by sun. Delicate.
“Hi,” she says hurriedly getting closer to my side of the yard with one of her 6 kids following her, while I…