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There is a pale rainbow arcing over the desert. It looks as if God had made a bad laundry error, mixed his colors with his whites.
Live long enough, and your life becomes your own to gamble with again.
I have only ever lived here. My sisters and I navigate these margins with breath and bones. We sing, and we absorb the echoes into our skeletons. A map draws itself inside us, revises us.
Under the water. Far from my sisters. Outside the chaos of our breaths. Only then, when I am nothing to anyone, do I feel the great peace.
