The follow-up is the great exposer of truth, the rock upon which fine theories are wrecked.
You remember her.
Tell God I didn’t know he existed until now.
We become artists because we see and live what others do not, or refuse to remember.
This is what matters:
My body sacred is not, when reality mixed with deep voice, fingers tasting, yours.
We work for 10 minutes each day, shine our bright lights into the world