 | | 2016-01-17 18:55
From blog Amy Nelson
Love is as big as a mountain
The night before I came to the mountains, I could not sleep. Instead, my legs curled against the cold white wall and I thought of how long the stretch of night can be when counting sheep does not help you fall asleep. In recent months, I have fought with somebody who I love more than the toast which melts butter or the pollen which grows honey. I have looked into their eyes and spoken words so ugly, so mean, you could almost taste the ashes of a once growing fire or feel the cold of an avalanche coming down from the mountain. I have looked into those same eyes and spoken words so kind, so pure, you could almost taste the fragrance of a blooming...
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