A Week of Excerpts: 2

fog on the river w blue poles
photo by Wolfgang Stearns

“I bury my face in the pillow that smells of must and damp. Its cotton slip is as cold as marble. It is only here, alone and in the dark, that I can allow those thoughts some rein. Thoughts that come from nowhere, from dreams, taking me delirious hostage. I long for sleep again, because only in sleep can I slip the bonds of what is possible and right. But as I have found so often in life, what you truly long for eludes you.”

from the book, The Tenderness of Wolves, by Stef Penney

6 thoughts on “A Week of Excerpts: 2”

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