His tall, lanky body had the wrinkles of sleep, and he smelled like cotton and dreams.
Rebecca WellsSidda sank down into the wide flannel embrace of their bodies, and she rested. For a moment she died a little death, they died it together.
Rebecca WellsOur Lady of Cheribim Chit-Chat.
Rebecca Wells...you do not have too many boogeymen for me. You have just the right number.
Rebecca WellsTags: relationships
Life is short, but it is wide. Genevieve Whitman taught me that.
Rebecca WellsTags: life
Once the scent caught me on the street in Greenwich Village. I stopped in my tracks and looked around. Where was it coming from? A shop? The trees? A passerby? I could not tell. I only knew the smell made me cry. I stood on the sidewalk in Greenwich Village as people brushed by, and felt suddenly young and terribly open, as if I were waiting for something. I live in an ocean of smell, and the ocean is my mother.
Rebecca WellsTags: scents
In the crook of the crescent moon sits the Holy Lady, with strong muscles and a merciful heart. She kicks her her splendid legs like the moon is her swing and the sky, her front porch. She waves down at Sidda like she has just spotted an old buddy.
Rebecca WellsShe longed for porch friendship, for the sticky, hot sensation of familiar female legs thrown over hers in companionship. She pined for the girliness of it all, the unplanned, improvisational laziness. She wanted to soak the words 'time management' out of her lexicon. She wanted to hand over, to yield, to let herself float down the unchartered beautiful fertile musky swamp of life, where creativity and eroticism and deep intelligence dwell.
Rebecca WellsWhat does my smile look like now? Vivi wondered. Can you reclaim that free-girl smile, or is it like virginity- once you loose it, that's it?
Rebecca WellsTags: smile
I try to believe," she said, "that God doesn't give you more than one little piece of the story at once. You know, the story of your life. Otherwise your heart would crack wider than you could handle. He only cracks it enough so you can still walk, like someone wearing a cast. But you've still got a crack running up your side, big enough for a sapling to grow out of. Only no one sees it. Nobody sees it. Everybody thinks you're one whole piece, and so they treat you maybe not so gentle as they could see that crack.
Rebecca WellsPage 1 of 9.
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