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“Now I can see: even the trees
are tired: they are bones bent forward
in a skin of wind, leaning in
osteoporosis, reaching
for a little more than any
oxygen can give: when living
is in season, they can live;
but living is no reason
to continue: everything begins:
and everything is desperate
to extend: and everything is
insufficient in the end:
and everything is ending:
Now I can see: even the trees”
―
are tired: they are bones bent forward
in a skin of wind, leaning in
osteoporosis, reaching
for a little more than any
oxygen can give: when living
is in season, they can live;
but living is no reason
to continue: everything begins:
and everything is desperate
to extend: and everything is
insufficient in the end:
and everything is ending:
Now I can see: even the trees”
―
“Melancholy overwhelms me at supersonic speed.”
― The Elegance of the Hedgehog
― The Elegance of the Hedgehog
“Grief is visceral, not reasonable: the howling at the center of grief is raw and real. It is love in its most wild form.”
― It's OK That You're Not OK
― It's OK That You're Not OK
“Be careful. There are people out there who will look at your love only as a place to put their pain.”
―
―
“The Spine of the Snowman"
On the moon, an old caretaker in faded clothes is holed up in his
pressurized cabin. The fireplace is crackling, casting sparks onto the
instrument panel. His eyes are flickering over the earth,
looking for Illinois,
looking for his hometown, Gnarled Heritage,
until his sight is caught in its chimneys and frosted aerials.
He thinks back on the jeweler's son who skated the pond
behind his house, and the local supermarket with aisles
that curved off like country roads.
Yesterday the robot had been asking him about snowmen.
He asked if they had minds.
No, the caretaker said, but he'd seen one
that had a raccoon burrowed up inside the head.
"Most had a carrot nose, some coal, buttons, and twigs for arms,
but others were more complex.
Once they started to melt, things would rise up
from inside the body. Maybe a gourd, which was an organ,
or a long knobbed stick, which was the spine of the snowman."
The robot shifted uncomfortably in his chair.”
― Actual Air
On the moon, an old caretaker in faded clothes is holed up in his
pressurized cabin. The fireplace is crackling, casting sparks onto the
instrument panel. His eyes are flickering over the earth,
looking for Illinois,
looking for his hometown, Gnarled Heritage,
until his sight is caught in its chimneys and frosted aerials.
He thinks back on the jeweler's son who skated the pond
behind his house, and the local supermarket with aisles
that curved off like country roads.
Yesterday the robot had been asking him about snowmen.
He asked if they had minds.
No, the caretaker said, but he'd seen one
that had a raccoon burrowed up inside the head.
"Most had a carrot nose, some coal, buttons, and twigs for arms,
but others were more complex.
Once they started to melt, things would rise up
from inside the body. Maybe a gourd, which was an organ,
or a long knobbed stick, which was the spine of the snowman."
The robot shifted uncomfortably in his chair.”
― Actual Air
Tina’s 2025 Year in Books
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