"We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another; unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, or fix us in the present. We are made up of layers, cells, constellations."
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
the harvest is finished...but I saw Lady Scarecrow last night, hiding in a corner with her lover, the fox told me...