Monday, 15 October 2012

A Strange Butterfly

On mornings in the autumn when the cold is setting in, I know the plight of the chrysalis. To tear oneself from the warmth of enclosed darkness with weak new limbs. To find oneself in stark, shimmering light, the cold sharp against new skin. Wings crumpled. Quivering.
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About the Author

is a human being with two x chromosomes during whose life the earth has circumnavigated the sun 20 times.