There was an ocean above us, held in by a thin sac that might rupture and let down a flood at any second.
Being soaked alone is cold. Being soaked with your best friend is an adventure.
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Being soaked alone is cold. Being soaked with your best friend is an adventure.
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When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.
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Long after the other voices had dropped away, Sam kept howling, very soft and slow.When he finally fell silent, the night felt dead. Sitting was intolerable. I stood up, paced, clenched and unclenched my hands into fists. Finally I took the guitar that Sam had played and I screamed and smashed it into pieces on Dad's desk.
What happened when we died? How were we to know that death wasn't as profound an adventure as life was?
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