“And it kills me, the word sorry. As if something like music should be forgiven. He nuzzles into the wood like a lover, inhales, and at the first slow stroke, the crescendo seeps through our skin like warm water, we who have nothing but destinations, who dream of
Well, Marlana, our editor in chief, sent over some topics to consider writing about last week. It is not that I don’t have a well of thoughts to share at the moment, but I decided to take some time and review Marlana’s thoughts and input before I went off on
We matter because we are matter, and if we get purposefully madder and madder and madder we can’t be little by being belittled.