The road was dotted with potholes and slick with rainwater and silage from the tractors. The wiry hedgerows came fast towards Patricia at each bend in the road and she had to yank on the steering wheel each time she approached a turn. With the dark canvas of the moonless sky overhead, she felt like
I miss the clouds. Up there the perspective is all encompassing. Lives make sense. Even the loss of lives is part of a pattern that is more easily discernible from above. I am earthbound now with clipped wings, but I still have certain powers even in this continent of trees that flower red and purple,
