““It never occurred to me that you were beginning to spin the web of one great tear, muddle and mesh, the blame and longing that awaited us, love dangling, the snare quivering with the promise of welcoming." "All explanation is retrospective, even the fact of the chair. To confirm this, we join groups that fondle themselves openly. There are no edges to mark anything, just the shameless stories." "The winds consider these things, the reliquishment of sin and the purpose of letting go, licking the nearly barren trees without judgment, their gusts, tonguing the peeling bark in a last kiss.””
