1. Bones

On the eighth anniversary of our dog’s death, we decided to go back to the old house and dig him up, just to see. And we laughed at the chicken bones we found buried amongst the dirt and childhood fantasies.

I still think about the days I spent wishing I were a peach. It was halfway through the merciless winter and I had become gluttonous on homemade berry compote, always craving the taste of sweet fruit. Everything was grey and sad, and to adjust I developed yin-yang habits…

A starving fox limping through the trees,
the rushing water mingles with the sound of buzzing bees,
up ahead the smell of nourishment carried with the breeze begging please,
calling forward the fox with the greatest of ease.