tag:dreamwidth.org,2021-12-20:3864155melodymelodymelody2023-09-09T04:08:29Ztag:dreamwidth.org,2021-12-20:3864155:2776snow moon2022-09-19T02:55:04Z2023-09-09T04:08:29Zpublic0The magic where the streetlights turn the snow pink lasts only for the first night, the same way, maybe, a blanket loses track of its scent when it’s been touched by too many hands, or the way a body grays when too many feet have dragged their cigarettes and complaints through it. But for that one first night, everything cold- flecked and whispering was ours, the pink light ours, sent from some other world so we could, for a night, feel untouched. So we could feel like sugar—crumbling, and perfect for it.<div style="text-align: right;">- Franny Choi, <em>Perihelion: A History of Touch</em></div><br /><span class="cut-wrapper"><span style="display: none;" id="span-cuttag___1" class="cuttag"></span><b class="cut-open">( </b><b class="cut-text"><a href="https://moonlitmelodiesfic.dreamwidth.org/2776.html#cutid1">sticky post</a></b><b class="cut-close"> )</b></span><div style="display: none;" id="div-cuttag___1" aria-live="assertive"></div><br /><br /><img src="https://www.dreamwidth.org/tools/commentcount?user=moonlitmelodiesfic&ditemid=2776" width="30" height="12" alt="comment count unavailable" style="vertical-align: middle;"/> comments