the way people thought we were one as we were growing up- like water and rock, as A puts it. You, solid. I, water. I ran over you, traversing where my heart drew me, getting caught up between narrow rocks, sprinting overgrowths and passing over sludge. You remained intact, waiting and always offering your concreteness to my roving soul.
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on what life meant to make out of faith
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Mamu touched my hair the other day and said: This is not the hair of the girl I birthed. What did you do to your hair? I touched my hair, im... -
i cannot imagine how you put up with a man who drags you by your nape and tells you to go to your room and puts you out in the night. it...
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