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September 17, 2010
She was a tree. Willow. Tall and slender, her untrimmed hair dragging in the mud and wilting from pale green to brown at the tips. Beautiful. Lean against her, and you are hidden and protected in her embrace.

But you don't see underneath. You do not see the turmoil she causes with her roots.

Always, always searching for water, for something more. More. She needs more. Always thirsty.

With her need, she breaks apart mountains. With her need, she brings down houses. With her need, she fights with her sisters, murders her lovers.

You will be strangled by a willow.