Carrying the Bones: Price of My Un-Belonging Is Death.
She carried me, bones and flesh, as best she could with no one left to hold her. She did her best to create the we from the tattered, broken I-ndividualism.
Browsing Tag:
Subcomandante Marcos
Break the Ballerina Routine of an Endless Stillness.
The gateway to this 'togetherness' is formed of the bravery it takes to clearly, unambiguously hunger for someone as Durito hungered for the ballerina.