[Unnamed], Winter, 2015 The floor of my room was covered in crow feathers. At least three hundred of them, originally laid out in a spiraling pattern around a center which was me. But then I started drinking, and the pattern changed, scattered, each disassociating from the other along with my thoughts. A lover moved out… Continue reading Gift of Crow, Gift of Stag
[Tim, Seattle, Autumn 2000]
[Red, First Fuck, summer, 1997]
What are we trying to remember?