quote · Legacy record
I ran from them. Nights, yellow lights scoured sand. What was ever found but women in skirts folded around the men they loved that Friday? No one found me. And how could that have been, here, whereeven botanical names were recordedand small roads mapped in red?Night, the sky is black paper pecked with pinholes.
I ran from them. Nights, yellow lights scoured sand. What was ever found but women in skirts folded around the men they loved that Friday? No one found me. And how could that have been, here, whereeven botanical names were recordedand small roads mapped in red?Night, the sky is black paper pecked with pinholes.
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- Author or tradition
- Deborah Ager
Attribution: attributed - Country attributed
- Not established
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- Historical period not yet established
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- Contributor-provided quotation collection
Supplied reference C; CSV row 319085; supplied attribution, independently unverified
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