The fleeting grace of a serpentine memory remembers itself in the hollowed out base of a thousand year old oak. Sharpen your claws, shift your eyes to the center, and think about something that makes you purr. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt if you fall off the moon.
Today: the color blood red, gypsum, music in the key of F, the smell of coriander, and the conversational lilt of prairie grass.
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