For Amor (Daniyaal), my hero. 2.
We stretch only to the frayed edges, the feathery band of warp without weft, the unravelling of the night bringing uncovered cool morning: a gap in the fabric & an end to that piece of weaving in and out, a chance to look at the pattern and decide what to choose for the next beginning.
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July 2020
Fiction is the lie that tells the truth ... (Neil Gaiman) Categories |