July 2010
1 tag
1 tag
funeral:
some days are nothing but a dream sequence: a train derailed, a clock with no hands, a long long road. faces, angles, misty light. no sound, usually, no color, usually. sometimes her teeth break in her dreams and she really believes it’s true, the pain is so terrible, but it’s such a relief once she lets it happen. this has always puzzled her. as if i had a choice, she thinks.
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