Two hundred and seven words. 29 — Kvenna ráð

o holy spice, no baptismal water, not a blessing, certainly not a curse – said the hoarder – but the tintinnabulation of my ringpulls saved, threaded, hung in a draft, making conversation with all the pile-high, and (to speak of threading) I make you pace an enchanted dance around my hazarded labyrinth, there an object […]

via Two hundred and seven words. 29 — Kvenna ráð

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