the most amazing view is from that edge… https://t.co/I667VVLPn7
— Suzanne Valtsioti (@SValtsioti) February 15, 2018
“I will gather up a lifetime of things unsaid, write them down, and then offer them all to be lit up for security and burned. All at once.
And then I can watch the whole thing turn to ash. The whole damn thing.
Light the match, and watch it burn.
What a loaded bonfire that would be though, if this gets burned when I finish filling up the whole book.
What a cleansing experience that will be!
If flames could speak, what a story they would tell.
They say that the original bonfires were the burning up of bones. Bad bones. Bad people. Enemies. Turning bones to ash. And it was the burning up of curses and all things bad as well. God knows we have had and still have enemies, and even curses. Real ones.”
“But in her very last post, in a poem that she wrote a quarter of a century ago, Le Guin left us with what often seems like the only possible answer: ‘And I will honor only / my people, the powerless.’”
<blockquote class=”twitter-tweet” data-lang=”en”><p lang=”und” dir=”ltr”>😂 <a href=”https://t.co/SNcDZQOYIx”>https://t.co/SNcDZQOYIx</a></p>— Suzanne Valtsioti (@SValtsioti) <a href=”https://twitter.com/SValtsioti/status/958063607698415619?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw”>January 29, 2018</a></blockquote>