Blurb

the movement is endless, like swimming ,she said, her voice inside a thick manilla envelope.
an address stamped to nova scotia, someplace far and close, and close and far all at the same time. Imagine, she said, someplace where nightime cradles daytime with a knitted blanket made of wool and the northern lights. and the spaces between the knots are stars. beautiful.. Don't you think?
he imagined, taking in the smell of the movement and the feeling of tall Cedars, he could imagine.
imagine it so well it nearly took his lungs away, the space inside his gut empty where his organs used to be. They were already there, waiting for him.