All writing is confession.
Masked and revealed in the voices and faces of our characters.
All is hunger.
The longing to be known fully and still loved. The admission of our own inherent vulnerability, our weakness, our tenderness of skin, fragility of heart.
Our overwhelming desire to be relieved of the burden of ourselves in the body of another — to be forgiven of our ultimate aloneness in the warm body of god or the common work of revolution.
These are human considerations that the best of writers presses her finger upon. The wound ruptures…
and heals.
………………….Note from the editor…………………….
Though this piece does not fall into the traditional definition of short fiction, it is an offering, an interruption of services so to speak in support of writers. And it is beautiful, no?
–Curly Red.
