There is poetry in ugliness; a melody in arguments that we play in our heads, over and over; like a song whose words we forget but still mumble through the chorus; the climax on loop until I’m angry all over again, only to be outdone by sadness. I read articles where the tone makes a […]
The fragrance of tea, wild and sweet rolled in from the mountains. A thick fog of quiet indications rustled from buried sprigs of leaves. Words shook out. They’d been heard before. An echo rippled through the breeze, unbeknownst to us, to me: they knew all our secrets.