Forgive Me My Trespasses
- Elvira Taku
- Dec 24, 2018
- 1 min read
There is an almost religious clarity that occurs when she washes her hair. A comforting sanctity that both literally and figuratively washes over her. It's a type of baptism that serves as a rebirth, a cleansing of not only the body, but the mind. Giving a new start to the bleak and monotonous day. The water curtains over her, sanctimonious in its purity as it cleanses her hair and cascades down her battered body. Renewing and repairing split ends, and her splitting headache. The suds are a gentle kindness in her unusually harsh world.
Recent Posts
See AllTight seat with tight belt. Through the window there’s invisible stars. Downwards, countless lights merge into one. All the footprints ...
Steam rises gently, Her hands dance with spice and love, Home tastes warm and safe. One bite of the rich And flavorful cinnamon, ...
Through the spring window is a bright burst of new green— great times are coming. The birds are singing, they are on their schedule—...