Hey. It’s 4:43 AM in Jerusalem. I just woke up crying, from the sweetest/saddest dream. I was holding you....
Listen: let my whisper part the veil, penetrate the matrixed basement membrane, cross the blood-brain barrier, enter your most...
"She knows /She has nothing to lose, /she cannot Be diminished. She is Netzach -
the victory not predicated on competition or power over another
But an inner loving-power."
A band of liars and thieves sing a song of desire and atonement.
This practice of our particular brand of loving is an unnerving and relentless remembering.
How could they predict you’d claim your scars as splendor?
