Peanuts

Our souls are like peanuts, our bodies, the shells. I remember thinking this the night we came home from burning incense. We burned paper money. I think we bowed. Me, in my gangly western body, oversized and overstretched. Metal lockers. Ashes. Peanuts. Light enthusiasm for existence has been coupled with a headachey down-to-earth boredom. While … More Peanuts

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