I want a tiny house away from all other forms of life except my cat and maybe sourdough starter. I'll take dragonflies and butterflies, luna moths and maybe the occasional orb spider. I'll take my books and my antique lamps and my 400 Bakelite bracelets. I'll take my cashmere sweaters and my cowboy boots. I'll take my Levis and my lockets, my kimono and my Mikimoto pearls. I'll take Harv's sketchbooks and journals and the canvas of us he didn't finish painting. I'll take the shape of him still in my bed, the scent of him on my pillow every morning before I awaken. (How in the world can one dream of sugar cookies and clove cigarettes, then awaken to a half-empty bed? to a heart like the test of a sand dollar, each petal a sieve for grief?)
(title of blogpost from "Frieda Kahlo to Marty McConnell" by Marty McConnell"
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(title of blogpost from "Frieda Kahlo to Marty McConnell" by Marty McConnell"
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