“He stood at the foot of the grave, gloved hands clasped behind him, his dark clothes and hair blending into one black silhouette, as if he were not a presence but an absence, a hole cut out of the landscape.” — Amanda DeWees Copy Share Image
“The wavelets flung themselves up as if trying to pat my feet and I darted back, laughing, and picked up my skirts to chase them back as they receded, in a game of tag more ancient than I then knew.” — Amanda DeWees Copy Share Image
“He stood at the foot of the grave, gloved hands clasped behind him, his dark clothes and hair blending into one black silhouette, as… — Amanda DeWees Copy Share Image
“The wavelets flung themselves up as if trying to pat my feet and I darted back, laughing, and picked up my skirts to chase… — Amanda DeWees Copy Share Image
