Status Updates From The White Book

For some reason, reading this yesterday made me feel a little nostalgic—I even started crying after a few pages.

Reedbed

One morning after a night of snow, she walks into a reedbed. She parts the reeds, each slender white stalk bent under the weight of the snow. The reedbed surrounds a small marsh, where a pair of wild ducks are living. At its heart, where the thin sheet of ice meets still water, the ducks float side by side on its greyish-blue surface, necks bowed to drink.

Sand

And she frequently forgot,
That her body (all our bodies) is a house of sand.
That it had shattered and is shattering still.
Slipping stubbornly through fingers.

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