[Originally published in mental shoes 002.]
Sula smells all musty. I know that smell of hers, when she’s been in the woods. A little tang mixed with earth and her usual je-ne-sais-quoi, something I’ve never been able to pin down exactly, it’s like lavender mixed with wet wood mixed with something almost familiar but not quite. She obviously didn’t grow up on a coast because she never smells salty, never.
“Nell! I’ve been i…
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Posted on June 7, 2009 at 5:33pm —