Mourners’ Lament After Catastrophe

Let us keen and wail and hold each other, but let us not ask why.

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Who Am I?

No human has ever, ever seen this crystal clear lake and yet it has existed always and forever.

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My phone will stay lost, in a forest that will not give up its secrets.

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I would like to be a temple priestess at the monastery of solitude.

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It's a darkness that demands the alertness of the creatures that want to live through this night.

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The plums are rotting now.

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I have no idea who made the hole. I can only remember the feeling of the task that was mine, to hammer my peg into it.

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I want to write a new manifesto on productivity.

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The wolf and I are taking a walk together through the forest, discussing our relationship.

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I want us to reclaim the power of the fairy tales written by others and know that we will decide who Rumpelstiltskin is and how her story ends.