Margaret Atwood Quote
Nothing like love to put bloodback in the language,the difference between the beach and itsdiscrete rocks and shards, a hardcuneiform, and the tender cursiveof waves; bone and liquid fishegg, desertand saltmarsh, a green pushout of death. The vowels plump again like lips or soaked fingers, and the fingersthemselves move around thesesoftening pebbles as around skin. The sky's not vacant and over there but closeagainst your eyes, molten, so nearyou can taste it. It tastes of salt. What touches you is what you touch.
Margaret Atwood
Nothing like love to put bloodback in the language,the difference between the beach and itsdiscrete rocks and shards, a hardcuneiform, and the tender cursiveof waves; bone and liquid fishegg, desertand saltmarsh, a green pushout of death. The vowels plump again like lips or soaked fingers, and the fingersthemselves move around thesesoftening pebbles as around skin. The sky's not vacant and over there but closeagainst your eyes, molten, so nearyou can taste it. It tastes of salt. What touches you is what you touch.