On Solstice eve I sail beyond myself into a kingdom of spirits celebrating the sun in repose, freed by the absence of light from the ordinary labors of day.
Enjoy them as a snack, grind them into flour for cookies, or surprise your guests by sprinkling them over the green beans.
They say a dog’s nose inhales information the way people read. So when I see Moon sniffing, I figure he’s perusing the books of other dogs.
I’m doing a scientific study in my apartment, tracking the lifecycle of a dust bunny, trying to understand how they reproduce so quickly.
She blinked and teetered. I could see she realized something was wrong with her story, but she couldn’t quite grasp it.
For many people the influence of Mercury is not an arguable point. They are quite certain they know what they’re talking about.
Why would I want to live to be 165 in a world where my iPhone doesn’t work and all my friends are dead?