I sniff words the way other people sniff flowers. Roses can be red, but not read. Violets are rarely blue, but most of us can’t say the same. I still cry, like every awful thing that I ever lived through just happened, but also– I still laugh, like every good thing I ever witnessed just happened all over again. I’ve noticed more and more … Continue reading holding violets
I don’t really know Mr. Levi. He’s a correctional officer at the prison where I spent 9 months of my incarcerated journey but he was never assigned to my particular units or zones. I glimpsed him, once or twice, making the old women in the med lines blush when he complimented their hair. He seemed nice, but he really wouldn’t be able to tell me … Continue reading where’re you goin’?