My first memory is of a thunderstorm. I spent the next 15 years digging up the caliche drive to unearth a shoe. A tune echoing across the pasture, burrowing it's way deep into the syntax of my thoughts. A lock of hair in an envelope. A plastic olive sword. A penchant for melodrama. Couldn't stop if I wanted to.
My first memory is of a thunderstorm. I spent the next 15 years digging up the caliche drive to unearth a shoe. A tune echoing across the pasture, burrowing it's way deep into the syntax of my thoughts. A lock of hair in an envelope. A plastic olive sword. A penchant for melodrama. Couldn't stop if I wanted to.