You could stoop down and pick a fallen petal,
crush it between your fingers, and you had
there, in the hollow of your hand, the essence
of a thousand scents, unbearable and sweet.
All from a curled and crumpled petal.Daphne Du Maurier, from Rebecca
YOU ARE READING
A Cow Looked at Me
ActionI am like the pomegranate tree, but all my branches have been cut, broken, and buried with the dead. My heart has become a shriveled pomegranate beating with death and falling every second into a bottomless pit. But no one knows. No one. The pomegra...