mánudagur, febrúar 26, 2007

hamur

It itches and crawls. Tonight she wants to peel her skin off and hang it on a hook, drape it over the back of a chair, fold it on top of the laundry pile. Any of these things. Would she float about like a mist without her skin or flow shapeless onto the floor? She isn't sure.

She wants to shuck it off like a salt-encrusted boot.

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