To my ice-kachang, tenderly,
Right after I wrote that first entry, I plunged right into a water well in the snow, made only by footprints deep enough in the thick smooth snow–melting walls and storing water.
There is no rain here. It snows.
29 Jan
To my ice-kachang, tenderly,
Right after I wrote that first entry, I plunged right into a water well in the snow, made only by footprints deep enough in the thick smooth snow–melting walls and storing water.
There is no rain here. It snows.
