| By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks http://www.jvfl.com/#gkaxp In our own beginnings, we are formed out of the body's interior landscape. For a short while, our mothers' bodies are the boundaries and personal geography which are all that we know of the world. ... Once we no longer live beneath our mother's heart, it is the earth with which we form the same dependent relationship, relying ... on its cycles and elements, helpless without its protective embrace.
|
