what's left over after you eat the fruit. poems, i think.

no one really sees wind, only its affects on the environment. you'll see it- swaying trees and flying dresses, the wind being caught and struggling and fighting its captor, breaking free and away, away, away. there is something agonizingly human about it. a collection of short stories, excerpts, and other little short things i write sometimes that i don't know what to do with.