Back at the cottage we explored the topography of my body; twigs in my hair, calves striped red and my skirt smudged in meadow tones. The forest underlined me, accentuated me, illustrated me. I felt alive in that midnight village whose dark places left their signatures on my skin, whose bites still hummed around my wrists. I didn’t notice till then the thousand nettle stings rising like pearls; burning bracelets that my love kissed and rubbed with dock leaves; a folk remedy painting my pulse points green; honorary stalks.

Dreaming in Night Vision: A Story in Vignettes