she'll raze she'll lose most of herself to the fading light. most, but not all. she'll forget a day spent in an orchard long burned into her mind, remembering only the taste of a peach she plucked, all sweetness without context. she'll remember how to smile but forget why the smile is there. she'll be less than what she was, and more than she hoped to be, and a great love will grow up around her as vines around a tree. 130918 what's it to you? who go blather from