I Have Danced With The Spider. I

Old Stories Would Tell How Weavers Would Kill Each Other Over Aesthetic Disagreements, Such As Whether It Was Prettier To Destroy An Army Of A Thousand Men Or To Leave It Be, Or Whether A Particular Dandelion Should Or Should Not Be Plucked. For A Weaver, To Think Was To Think Aesthetically. To Act - To Weave - Was To Bring About More Pleasing Patterns. They Did Not Eat Physical Food: They Seemed To Subsist On The Appreciation Of Beauty.

I Couldn't Tell If I Was Perspicacious Or Paranoid.

Ever Since I Was Two, I've Loved Octopuses, Monsters, Abandoned Buildings.

Scars Are Not Injuries, Tanner Sack. A Scar Is A Healing. After Injury, A Scar Is What Makes You Whole.

It Had Not Been A Long Journey, But The Memory Of It Filled Her Like An Infection. She Had Felt Tethered By Time To The City Behind Her, So That The Minutes Stretched Out Taut As She Moved Away, And Slowed The Farther She Got, Dragging Out Her Little Voyage.