470.

I’m haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words.

I’ve been examining half-scraps of my childhood. They are pieces of distant life that have no form or meaning. They are things that just happened like lint.

“Lint” from Revenge of the Lawn by Richard Brautigan

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About Amber Donofrio

A writer, contemporary art enthusiast, and nature appreciator divided between coasts.
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