Dyeing in the Dunes
I mean, she was dying as well and so am I, but perhaps she was doing both at the same time.
Oh, The Light
The foggy clouds from the valley have marched up to here. I am inside of them, these clouds that have touched the pine trees and the deeply fallen untracked snow and the weasels darting between the tree trunks and the icicles hanging from the craggy rocks.
