I overdressed at Mark's funeral because I still wanted it to be Spring.

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Filed under:
death, flowers

the return to normal
This morning, my grandfather visited me in the form of a heron. I'm pretty convinced it was him: I've never seen a heron around here before.

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Filed under:
lovedeath, pantin

le cygne
“Sarah, how does a bird know how to make a nest?”

“How does a spider know how to weave a web?”

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Filed under:
longform, pantin, death

like a boxer in the ring
Est-ce que je vais mourir ?” I mumbled to the nurse in my silly American accent as she gave me another morphine injection. It was 4 o’clock in the morning, what seemed to be my body’s witching hour. It was my fifth evening of morphine injections, no food or water, and dreams of carbonated limonade and strawberries.

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I found this lane all to myself and I thought of you, I thought of imaginary schools of fish below me and their unshakable desire to swim together. 

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Filed under:
poolsdeath, love, paris © 2021
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)