The henna is beginning to fade from my hand. I can’t quite recall the flavor of the garlic chili green beans that final night. My arm doesn’t hold the warmth of my friend’s arm, leaned up against it, anymore. The deep magic is fading. But something remains. There is a deeper magic from before the dawn of time, one that […]
This Is My Story
Story, story, story. The word echoed through my weekend, shaped by various tongues.
Post-Moot
We are post-Hutchmoot again, and I am certain I will have many things to say in the next few days, but I’ll begin with a few quotes.