Tuesday, 30 June 2009
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Friday, 19 June 2009
Friday, 5 June 2009
Thursday, 4 June 2009
The Murder
There's a rumble. I don't know what landslides sound like. But the rocks and the mud and the trees come loose and tumble down. The house by the mountain is crushed.
They say the crows saved her for her kindness to them each winter.
Labels:
icelandic folk tale,
printing,
work
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