Ashes From a Fire that Refuses to Die
She said she would buy the flowers herself.
The Morning
Despite saying this, she did not really go out for flowers. Mornings are too precious to waste on such errands. In one of the most precious moments of life — a normal morning in September — the mind was sharpest, while the world was chilling and still. Given both circumstances hold true, her pen could move across the page with a kind of urgency that only the dawn understood.
