there is a confluence influenced apparently by a fluidity of music.
i fill the house with candles, the flames sit next to each other.
After a photograph by Katie Pearce The girl lies in her stark white dress. The grass the unreal green velvet of spring. March buds push from the trees. Everything becoming— everything alive except the girl. She is a pearl on display in a jeweler’s window. Clouds dapple the ground around her. Years from now she… Continue reading “Death, Sleep, Beauty” by Shaindel Beers