Listening to the fiddler deep down, a soliloquy of ashes in the twilight,speaking in tongues of the damned, dead languages of souls departed.The fiddler had no fingers, just bone—yellowed and polished smooth, clicking, against the strings with every note,...

In another life, I have been a sea turtle.Grown up without a mother.Never been taught by anyone.And yet?In the end?I have made my way in the ocean.

When she walks on by that is beautiful. With something about her, I cannot ignore. My eyes follow her blinklessly into blinding light. With something about her, I can gaze. Her perfect form eclipses the sunlight, and I am cast...