A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren't enough; as if mourners and gossips and vegetables were never enough. She thinks she can warn the stars. A writer is essentially a spy. Dear love, I am that girl. --from THE BLACK ART by Anne Sexton
i swear. the day anton hit his ninth month, he's been bouncing off the walls. i could never get him anymore to keep still for a photo, even if for just a couple of minutes.
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