there’s one thing i like to do — to never search writers faces. i like that their writing does the talking and builds their face, a crooked nose, a skinny wrist, another gender, eyes deep and hands full of secrets. their words mash together into this amorphous being (i am never able to imagine concrete things in my mind), their energy seeping through everything i know and am. they talk to my face and i sit and listen and listen and listen.
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