Skin Like Carapace published in Scheherezade’s Bequest : As You Wish
I sleep shallow and my memories whisper in my ear, their hand on my shoulder so I cannot evade them, They speak to me of the first time I came to the market of fragrance, 16 years old and face bare apart from one age branch carved above the broken brow of my nose. I pay them no heed, but it's hard, hard to ignore the first taste of air surrounding the market. Then and still the greatest wonder of the Land of No Light.
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