ART OF SCARS: The Innate Ability to Be Seen

autumnal hand of leaves held in shadows narrativo en piel y luz beautiful flaw and terrible ornament (a eulogy) a cleansing daily report of the unheard the fluidity of fear strength . vulnerability ta douleur oración del tarde reflejo: infinity of sighs my father always sat with his legs spread far apart, like he was posing for something he called all of us failures. i don't know why. he was only peaceful in the woods. i was lucky to see him there. it's been hard on my body, holding all this stuff. my mother was the only one who had any kind of faith. but hers isn't mine. i made my own. i hardly ever saw my mother sit. with ten kids, she was alway busy. yesterday, i saw a hawk. i thought: i want to be free like that.