I am making borscht please do not laugh at me I seem to have ruined my soul the quality of television programming grows stronger all the time soon we will live in the ocean we will all return to the ocean my hands are bright pink like I have been applauding you for hours my love for you is louder than I know I saw a show last night there were four thousand brides left in Iceland I was laughing but it was not funny the brides looked embarrassed and cold I must not wash anywhere but a tide pool I must use starfish to scrub at my hands I am writing this to say I am not leaving you forever I am going to get better and then Ill come home
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Heather Christle is author of The Trees The Trees and The Difficult Farm.
Heather Christle,
Acorn Duly Crushed
C.J. Sage,
Used-To Lives On