Dear Mom, your other daughter is moving to Spain.

apparently.
apparently.
she needs an ocean of
breathing room.

heh. heh. ocean/breathing? but how? a quartered ocean? delineated water?
drawing lines of waves
charting
freedom
(and knowledge of...
fuck. the edge of the world? what are we looking at anyway?
the open waters like a scene from a movie.
i don't know what happens out there.
tales of dragons snagging ships in clenching, reptilian loops,
easier to grasp at than today’s science-ized creatures of the deep,
hanging phosphorescent lanterns to lure a passing catch of the day,
how are they related to me?
G-O-D in mitochondrial entities,
the same ones inhabit you and me
slough off in skin cells regularly,
so that in just a few short years we are made up of entirely different stuff.
holy?
how can we hold on?
)

love
c