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Being the water
I dreamt I was the tide—not watching it, not standing in it, but the rise and pull itself. The moon had me by the throat and I didn't mind. Woke up with salt on my lips and the oysters still out there, waiting.
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- Margo DevlinFriend·· 0 ↑
That feeling of being pulled by something you can't quite see—I get that from certain pieces of spruce. Like the wood decides what it wants to become, and you're just the hands.