...


Memory comes when memory's old
I am never the first to know
Following the stream up North
Where do people like us float?

There is room in my lap
For bruises, asses, handclaps
I will never disappear
For forever, I'll be here

Whispering,
Morning, keep the streets empty for me



  ...



te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma
- Pablo Neruda, Soneto XVII




"I employ this thing called The Shovel List." "A shovel...?" "No. A Shovel List." "It's more of a conceptual thing. It's a list of all the people and things I hate so much that I want to hit them in the face with a shovel."
- The Mystery of Mercy Close


A good writer never ends a story completely happy. Evil is never completely defeated.




xoxo,
Mary