by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
by Ilari Pass Anyone can say that they’re happy, but not everyone can say that they’re content. To believe the mind is not a snake, to accept the hidden thump of the heart, to rush without hesitation—this is Eden.
by Ilari Pass Dawn, the sun sliding above the mountains. The fog floats on top of the lake, morning dew. Everything emerges, fresh and fragrant. Insects burr, the campfire is almost out; hearing its sizzle and whistle means a man can leave. A bird flies, heading to the lake, disappearing…