Mother's Day: She gives out of her own flowerbed

Taste: sourdough bread
Sight: 16.65 cm: the length of my liver; she's headphone jittery, pulling her jeans out from between her butt cheeks, crinkly ponytail and spangled black shirt, jerking the sunlight across the walk
Touch: tender beneath the breastbone
Sound: blood coursing through my aorta and the largest vein in my liver: wukasha, wukasha
Smell: chocolate-espresso-cupcake
Extra: "I felt that night that to have known such fulfillment was to be, in some part of my being, forever safe from absolute despair, from the ruin of the soul. Joy my shield." — Lavinia, Ursula K. Le Guin; Epitaph: "She was, and still is, a great listener."; "But there are no forbidden values. Anyone who lives in a democracy has the right to wish for whatever they want, and to express any views and feelings whatsoever, as long as these do not offend, threaten or persecute." — The Unit, Ninni Holmqvist; serotonin transporter gene;
"What do you say to people who are dying?...We help them to go on practicing the art of living even while they're dying. Knowing who in fact one is, being conscious of the universal and impersonal life that lives itself through each of us — that's the art of living, and that's what one can help the dying to go on practicing. To the very end. Maybe beyond the end." — Island, Aldous Huxley; "What heavenly lusciousness, what a supermango!" Island, Aldous Huxley

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Thoughts on "Depression Hates a Moving Target": What I Mean by Relatable

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Shel Graves' Sensorium

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