As I write these words, it’s night, and I’m upstairs in a little room tucked under the eaves, listening to the rain drum the roof just above my head. I love the way a summer rain sounds silver, even in the dark. Oh, Summer: ¬†sing me to sleep. ‚̧

The Way of Escape

You find yourself in a windowless room — the walls crumbling plaster,¬†gray. (I know this because¬†I am there too). You don’t know¬†how long you’ve been there,¬†but you know it’s been¬†a long time, because¬†there’s a hunger¬†in the back of your eyes: ¬†for color, light —¬†carmine, sun-yellow,¬†cobalt. Your body is stiff, hunched,¬†the bones nearly bent.¬†The ceiling is […]