violence. or is the whole point of a knife that it meet skin unexpectedly? violin slices. the flinching from imagined machinations, a capacity that enables us to create a more exalting & consoling nature. my grandfather secured their removal from his garden. let’s. but to the purple? i worried in the hand. everything’s hard to do here. down to the touch. the necessary tongues of the animals. cutting mine out to find it. lose one’s life to grow back a seastar’s arm.
