Description
The bravest thing I did was write about murders when I wrote those truths I literally shook-- Dad's murder. Murdering souls. This book lets you into a world of games. --Replay -----Hush Or my Bees Will Get You. Came about when I was freed but dumped with my kids way out with bees and a magical ocean. I believe the Ocean saves your soul and that to survive we need to develop the architecture of good memory: if there's one gift to teach it's powerful recall. See people wash you with their versions of their truth, Like fucking waves over truth. I hit replay To find Where the truth. Lay. I can't go back to who I was yesterday--- but I can use yesterday to hush ---hit replay unwrap the lies-- and relax with my bees, In the shock of life this life I find myself looking at greater wars, originally when Dad died I read every tough book on the market, the brothers at my bookshop looked {small tiny town things, we all know each other we are all always conscious of each other because we gave/ formed each other's small town quiet simple life for so long) -hysterically worried--as I devoured books at a faster pace than ever before-- Books by wise strong souls I would ignore the brothers or try to act happy and chatty and grab another book my grief counselors were Africa's writers India's writers never developed country writers. In the horror of the mere concept of child soldiers the absolute strength of these writers, in heroism and strength to overcome anything, in the wise voices I found true solace. An escape after years of being abused, and a love affair of sorts, removes her pain, the sea heals her and her beloved Africa reminds of her of beautiful resilience. But she discovers masks and layers in all of this that need to be revealed and so to whisper truth to the people like her humming bees- a toppling of ten green bottles.
For the #Sheep, from the #Beekeeper, X -
