I’ve dipped the ends in tea, she grinned. In tea.

They don’t belong there but it doesn’t matter.

do you remember sleeping here because i don’t

Go early (there’s a man on the corner selling glass bottles shaped like seashells, like hips spread for childbearing, you’ll want to stop there for a minute but try not to look at his hands) so you can get a seat (jewel tones lined up on the alchemist’s counter, don’t say ‘glinting’ because that’s too easy find another way to describe the wanderings of light) should your legs fail you.

Sadly, she continues, this is not a madness that allows for the sinking of bones

or teeth, for that matter.