• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 09
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What ties us to this world, this life?
I have cut my long dark hair.
I remember, I remember riding in your car, riding the heat wave, the shimmer on the highway. The sky was wrapped in gray clouds. The wind was cool as rain. I had my hair tied back in a yellow paisley scarf, how it played and danced in the air. How suddenly it slipped, flew out the window, and I looked back to see the astonished face of the driver as it brushed against the windshield of his truck. Then it soared into a nearby field, high into the sky—and it was gone.

Now the years fly by like a light silk scarf,
The days drip like rain, like ripe mulberries.