It's a wishbone. That very human piece that has us reaching for things that aren't ours. It is that cloud of bitter, sad, stinging grief where you wish yourself better, but haven't been able to reach those stars yet. Despite how hard you've tried.
(Letters to my daughters and other things)
It's a wishbone. That very human piece that has us reaching for things that aren't ours. It is that cloud of bitter, sad, stinging grief where you wish yourself better, but haven't been able to reach those stars yet. Despite how hard you've tried.