Wednesday, May 09, 2012


The fever took her, suddenly, quietly. Where one moment she was lying down, the next her blood had been burned, her hair was fire, so that there was a constant glow about her face.
She was to live on, as the smoke from cigarettes, the smoke from a burnt turkey dinner, from bonfires, from forests, from places where children died frequently.
In moments like these, where her body and her brain were two separate entities, she could think only of the way his skin joined in perfect harmony behind his ears.


F. said...

And with that, I'm in love with your blog.

Zh. said...

so incredibly sweet of you :)