Language Is

a resistance to the purer flow of the self, a bucket of air flung against a brittle windowpane, a shaft of cold well water rushing through the garden hose on its way to wake the crocuses, and the rose.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...