From the first day I've done nothing but remember the past. The small breeze here tastes as if it comes across miles of early summer corn. The sky has that relentless emptiness the sky can have on a hot day over the endless farms.

…the psychic work necessary to conceive of an angel is more painful and frightening than that which manages to midwife demons…

…and she lay fully upon him, seeing his tears. His tears were only something else of his to put her lips upon…

I gather the energy to scratch open those wounds. My feet look like they could walk, they're still there, blister-free. They look strong. No shoes, but I don't think it will hurt. I've been barefoot before. I step carefully, but there is no way to protect feet from some grass, some burrs, some splinters; the skin has got to yield. Staying on the porch is safe, but what has safety ever given me? So out I go.