There are good days and there are bad.
And on the very worst, life is ephemeral.
Painfully so.
My lover lies beside me but leaves no place for me to sleep.
He is all I need, all I could ever ask for. All I never thought to ask for. Is it a cruel form of justice that I managed to find someone even more stubborn and independent as myself?
Karma in only the westernized sense. Karma for a woman sworn to marry only her scholarly aspirations.
It is every cliche’d moon metaphor. Pushing and pulling and balancing until we are all so wet that the cliche of a woman as the moon leaves our female protagonist round and fertile and open and everything slips into place. In the metaphorical sense only, of course.
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