Jordaan Mason & the Horse Museum - avalanches
If snow is flesh in gardens: we don't have mouths to talk about it
Between avalanches, we can find our language
Between fire blankets, we can speak our language
But if snow is like skin: it pulls away, so easy, dragged from the body
What if all stripped wood is branches and all frozen lakes are water?
Then our bodies will be avalanches
Between avalanches, we can find our language
Between fire blankets, we can speak our language
But if snow is like skin: it pulls away, so easy, dragged from the body
What if all stripped wood is branches and all frozen lakes are water?
Then our bodies will be avalanches
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