I am holding aluminum foil in one hand and nothing in the other, a body falling backwards into the soft arms of wonder with all the grace of an unpinned grenade. A broken circle shapes itself into scythes. A kiss from each curved blade. Whisper soft and hard as quartz. Hard as unblinking eyes.

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You only hear what I have to say when you're touching my face. So press your hand against that small city, and listen as long as you live there.