She mustn’t put strangeness where there is nothing.
Words come easily to her; but she also sees the underlying inadequacy of the Word.
He has (re) married, stopped drinking (more or less), and suffers only occasional relapses.
That was just sex, but this is her work.
She is a forest in which the Kings of France once hunted.
When you shake her, beads of strings on the outside and seeds and stones inside make music.
Sticky heat sits on her skin.