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 find this lane all to myself and I think of you, I think of the imaginary schools of fish below me and their unshakable desire to swim together for eternity. The patterns they make with their synchronized movement are like smoke signals, the light they reflect against their silver scales. Oh how I’m filled with this childlike desire, this sense of urgency, to hold you by the hand and show you this magnificent display of nature. Because your smile is like an elixir that I want to collect in a tiny bottle. Because I know that our eternity - you and me - is not eternal.

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Filed under:
poolsdeath, love, paris © 2022
(there are other sarah rose’s, but this is the new one)