Member-only story
You’re on the highway, it’s night; the stars are
parachuting down; everything’s dark — and you hear a
voice that tells you that still love. So you keep
driving. And you think — in a thousand years, all that
matters will be the fire-flower whose seeds you saved.
And so you drive even faster, you know she’s waiting
for you. You can’t stop thinking about her. Nothing
else matters. The sorrows of death compassed me, and
the floods of ungodly men made me afraid. The mood of
the water. Beech trees, marked with stones. No one
misses you, no one knows where you are. There are
lights on in the house. This is your life. Gentle,
transient, luminous. Probing.
