A tiny animal kept close to me on a string. Warm and precious wool, a little black lamb whose face is a miniature universe. Then the dream shifts, I'm walking along...
In an old country a wild plot of dill gives itself inch by inch to the thin white sun woodsmoke and diesel moroshka she calls out cloudberry again and again...
By day they're the color of ivory. The world goes about its business. Nothing is amiss. But soon enough, dusk begins flooding the street. Now is when my collection of objects starts longing: the...