“Memories must enter the bloodstream, must churn awhile through the heart’s mill, must be crushed and polished, be nearly forgotten or cling like burs to other stories before they spill forth in purple patterns, shapes of small bones and worm rot, shapes of clouds and the spaces between leaves.”

“Memories must enter the bloodstream, must churn awhile through the heart’s mill, must be crushed and polished, be nearly forgotten or cling like burs to other stories before they spill forth in purple patterns, shapes of small bones and worm rot, shapes of clouds and the spaces between leaves.”

— Keith Miller