Winter Count | 
“Seated on black marble, its darkness cool under his palms, the stone itself racketed as he looked deeper with ganglia of white neurons, he imagined he stood alone farther north, as in a Sung painting; stood beneath black skies with the white heartbeat of stars overhead and that rip tide of light, that Tai-chi extension of otherly grace, the northern lights.”
Honestly, this whole paragraph is a mood... stunned... caught reading it forever 💙🌃
Well, I haven‘t revisited this collection in quite some time!
I remember that for the longest time, I feverishly looked for this collection in Barnes & Noble and came up short everywhere I went. The story that did it for me was called “Winter Herons” and it had such evocative language that I could feel the words permeate through my being. It was assigned as reading material for my senior elective creative writing class and thank god for that!
