i (i) wrote,

this morning, i finished The Wood Wife by Terri Windling. it was recommended to me by muse, who received it from pixelpusher. two of my favorite people, so how could i resist. i was crying at the end of the story, not so much for the characters as for myself. when i first moved to tucson, the desert took me in, enveloped me in its fragile-but-hostile arms, and gave me new life. after i moved to phoenix in 1992 that infusion was slowly sterilized. unlike pix, i was unable to reach beyond the obliteration of the true desert that phoenix is to see the life beyond and beneath. now i am back in tucson, and i long for that connection again. like a desert plant which has died back to the roots during a drought, i can feel new shoots pushing into my soul. i give the gift of my tears to the desert.*

*thanks to Frank Herbert for this concept

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