This is not a story about foiled plans and what’s the use of trying anyway. This is precisely a story about making things- making stories, making plans, making lists, and making love- in the face of the inevitable messiness we will encounter.
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“Remember: our faces in proximity make a pure small space — a vessel or goblet that could hold the whole Atlantic…”
~Mary Karr, Summons
sometimes we post orphan pictures rescued from the nameless interwoods, or we find things and forgot where we found them, so if you see something here that belongs to you please comment and we'd love to give you credit / take it down. xxo
Last night the moon came
dropping her clothes in the street.
I took it as a sign to start dancing,
falling upwards into the bowl
of sky.
The bowl shatters.
Everywhere is falling everywhere;
nothing else
to do. Here’s the new rule:
Shatter the wineglass and fall
into the glassblowers’ breath.
Emma
Katyslany
Salastia 