Lucia Perillo uses words that conjure images combined is such a way that turn me into a self I have only yet secretly dreamt of being able to be way deep on the inside of me I don’t know how many births it takes to get reborn as not the flower but the scent oh my goodness I can feel myself a gentle puff of invisible beauty created out of the ethers of one flower or one strong cup of coffee or maybe even a plate of fresh cut melon there with the sun through the window casting a glow across the cimarron surface look it up click the link and tell me you too wouldn’t too want for yourself your next life to be allowed to exist as air a prayer to whom who wouldn’t want if one had a single last meal to consume I’d choose a juicy plum not for its sweetness but for the pit that’s swallowed as well so that return comes in the form of comfort shade and nourishment perhaps if I am lucky for
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