Three days before I was due to wind up writing, as I was struggling to work out how all the pieces fit together, I had the most powerful yearning to build poetry.
I was good.
I resisted.
I promised myself a play date with glue and scissors and scraps of paper and tarot cards in the near future.
Today that play date came to land.
First on the balcony, which was a bit like playing Russian roulette with the wind, then later at the kitchen table which was a little safer when working with fragments of paper.
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