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Raining Demons

@catthevicious / catthevicious.tumblr.com

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The wolf runs. It runs three legged, like all damaged creatures, across the snow. She thinks: this is true. She thinks: this is a life. She thinks: I do not want to die, but my life will always be like this—wounded and animal, lurching against white.

Lidia Yuknavitch, The Small Backs of Children

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