You watch the woman work. It isn't clear to you what she's doing; you have a hard time separating out what most consider random junk from what's actually valuable. For instance, all the torn up flowers will still offer nutrients to what is growing beneath. Even the torn down boards and scraps of wood will eventually decompose.
Still, you sit on the sidewalk with your notebook, recording what Zariah does (and any instances of magic that she uses to do it). As you sit bits of grass and moss begin to creep up your folded knees, blending you into your surroundings.
Still, you sit on the sidewalk with your notebook, recording what Zariah does (and any instances of magic that she uses to do it). As you sit bits of grass and moss begin to creep up your folded knees, blending you into your surroundings.
sometimes i'm terrified of my heart; of its constant
hunger for what it is it wants. the way it stops and starts.
hunger for what it is it wants. the way it stops and starts.
