December
20 January 2011
The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much.
Suddenly they become the bleached bones of a story.
And she gave you a feeling of lightness. As if you could fly even when your fragile wings were broken.
Little events, ordinary things, smashed and reconstituted.
She had terrible pictures in her head.
On what she loved most. That she lived without but that always existed within her and that she could never forget. At what hurt so badly that she forced herself to ignore. On what you could not ignore
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