on, 7 May 2007 17:05:24 -0500
by Hannah Kramer


Sarah twice removed but still in her baby skeleton predicting the now as her grandmother.

In a paper trail of age old stories laced with pesticides and lofty promises for perfect improvement, there is a younger generation picking up the pieces. And on older generation with time out of their hands.

The nostalgia of the family farm. Dancing under grandmas magical weeping willow. On an unfertilized lawn.

They felt a panic to make improvements on a good idea that never needed it?

Sarah is every age she'll ever be and every age her grandmother ever was and donning glittery headbands to keep her windblown hair out of her face. Even that breeze was wasted. While cabbages gag out poison.

Go ahead and be exhausted from holding yourself up in the gusts. Or let it flush some color into your cheeks and it'll send you to a place where falling down is just your way of mocking the windmill in friendly play.