that wounded rider knows the intimacies of the river. its earliest mud is still under his fingernails.

Grace and Fury walk with you, call each by name when the other has failed	the desert was once alive, but I don't remember it	The sky rained tears. I was sure.	I hope my pony knows the way back home
January 24, 2006	This Maasai Maiden	we woke up to find you gone. well, said the city, we still have the river.	text-based virtual reality
The Essence	lahar	houses are sliding in the mud; rivers are raging in your blood	context collapse
The Nightingale	You Know What I'm Sayin'	a list of atrocities done in your name	Dermatillomania
Why channelizing a river is never a good idea	domestic surveillance	jackfruit	Inveterate