“If I must be wrung through the paradox — broken into wholeness, wring me around the moon; pelt me with particles from the dark side. Fling me into space; hide me in a black hole. Let me dance with devils on dead stars. Let my scars leave brilliant traces, for my highborn soul seeks its hell — in high places.” Avah Pevlor Johnson

j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved

j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved

 

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