All the fragrances of dew, O angel, are there, / The myrrhic rapture of young hair, […]
A bouquet of chaotic words salvaged from the unceasing winter storm that churns regularly in the seemingly quiet little mind of a seventeen-year-old idealist who loves to spit fire at the world when she’s feeling fussy.
I was placed in a saddle and a leanback was made; a bent twig or sapling inclined at an angle of 50° was attached to the rings at the crupper of the saddle, and I was securely attached to it by a rope.
A lot of that stuff that people take the piss out of all the time is actually useful.
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