Yesterday someone told me of an encounter with him. What he said. How he said it.
Her report was a red-hot branding iron, pressed against my sternum.
I wept, off and on. For hours.
How can I possibly see him. Without bursting into flame?
August 15, 2008
lilan patri
I'm a thirtysomething gal who's abandoned her fat cat, excellent career, and cramped studio in New York to brave the wilds of Berlin, all by her lonesome.
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