Wednesday, July 22, 2015



I can see 10 women pounding flower stems with hammers. So they can get their water. In their vase.

Just a white girl wondering why she couldn't be born into the violent safety of the life of the Sentinelese people. I wanted to see what it was like when metal & plastic met the shore for the first time.

"In one respect, the husbands and wives of the tribe are amazingly different from so-called civilized people. They understand the beauty of stillness and silence. They are lovers absorbed in eternal quietude."

Your belly button actin' a thimble for puss.

"In his dream, the hunter's triumphant spear gouges the eye of the moon and when he wakes the victim is his love."

I'm swimming around in my weak. Reading books by men whose intent it was to make me feel bad. That's o.k. Taking it all back.

Ya. Always.

No comments: