...Today the sky is a wafer. Placed on my tongue, it is a wholeness that has already disintegrated; placed under the tongue, it makes my heart beat strongly enough to stretch myself over the winter brilliances to come. Now I feel the tenderness to which the season rots. Its defenselessness can no0 longer be corrupted. Death is its purity, its sweet mud..."
- Gretel Ehrlich, The Solace of Open Spaces
posted for Deb.