Owlheads, Amanda James
Blue Whales Katie Mayer He tries to explain what it is to see the best flower on earth while her limbs stretch wide across the grass. She tries to catch butterflies on her tongue but they just land in his hair, perched like paper cranes. “It might be useless to describe.” He runs a finger over his eyelids and a centipede slides across her wrist. She feels each footstep. “Blue whales,” he says at last. “It’s what it is to be very small. It’s how round this stone is.” He places a stone in her hand and she feels its cool edges curve in a circle.
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