Perhaps as you enter the penumbral shadow of yearning, thinner than light, fleeter than flame, a vein in the rock - and stand poised to retrace your steps, carrying the fragrance of earth and rose across time – you remember those quiet evenings of visiting your younger self walking alone beneath a dazzling moon on the brink of a new desire, folding and unfolding the possibilities over and over again in your mind while a white boat waits, tied among the reeds where water lilies rise.
Maybe your yearning was pulled from the fabric of the night sky when bright needles of light punctured the black canvas and a brilliant liquid of light fell quickly toward you like a shining bead of mercury from a broken thermometer that your mother had shaken and together on your knees you rolled the darting beads onto paper that she folded like a luminescent, white boat on the water.
Beautiful, girls, you outdid yourselves....I want to get in that white boat and see where it takes me. Lovely.
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