t.noble

Bury me beside an apple tree.  Take everything
you thought you knew and held dear,
your fancies and follies, and put me in the ground.  ...

Your garden was rich in colour, texture, tastes. It became precious; this rare and coveted earth. I ran you through my fingers and...

The Angel is old, and has stopped praying for the dead.
It no longer ferries, it no longer cares. Stone eyes are all that
are left....