… and what sprouts in my death?
Related Blogposts
I sense a rite in running, rhythmical pounding along the lines that skirt the town following the fields, the signs that say leaving the aching of my lungs swallowed by the great open heavens. Growth is in the soil. We spring into life. Activated, confident. Feeling the wriggle and…
Press here to watch confession from The Sister’s Office day 2.