In my motherland people kneel before wells.

In my motherland people pray to the crosses of flying birds.

A bone is a key to my people.

Among my people, only the dead have human faces.

- Valzhyna Mort
whoever made the clouds was a poor artist, but I think I exist like this; suspended, with waves lapping gently at your heels.
Salt Ritual in B Minor, Marilyn Schotland (published in L'Éphémère Review Issue II)
64 n quote on Julio 25, 2017 / words.q.
from eirenelle / origin
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