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A big enough artist, I say, can eat anything, must eat everything and then alchemize it. Only the feeble writer is afraid of expansion.
— Anias Nin.

The Many Faces of Divine Intervention.

Loosen your hold on the pragmatic. The purpose is not clear and won't be for some time.

The image is of a woman with her arms spread wide. She is the color of rose petals soaked in water. She is scented with the sun and splits herself in two: one stands on the edge. One is falling, flying, floating, down down down into what looks like wet.

Madness bangs up against her thighs and she keeps her arms spread. Like a kite with puffed sleeves. Like a butterfly bursting from the cocoon.

Where are you, wild woman? Fill me up!


Photo source.

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