Late Night Library

Archives about Bright Shards of Someplace Else

Monica McFawn

My son, the drug addict, is about to tell a story. I can tell because he’s closed his eyes and lifted his chin. I can tell because he’s laid his hands, palms down, on the table, like a shaman feeling the energy of the tree-spirit still in the wood. I can tell because he’s drawing

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October 10, 2014

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