Tag Archives: Carl Jung

Day 15 in Scotland, coming into Oban

The Latvian-Scottish hairstylist in the salon across the street from our flat holds my hair up in the mirror, both of us looking at it, and says it’s a disconnected style, which I ask her to define but she can’t … Continue reading

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‘A shadow on the door of a cottage on the shore’

It has the feel of a wet campground, all the smoke and everything damp, watching the Guy Fawkes 5th of November fireworks and bonfire display here in Inverness, the largest festival of its kind in northern Scotland, because I have … Continue reading

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When the sun came through my window

The backs of the butterfly wings caught fire and it was a deep-blooded copper glow when the sun came through my window, the backs, and it has come to represent so much more, the stained glass pane my mom and … Continue reading

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The moments we steal with cameras and pens

The hot tub smells not altogether good when it’s been left a while without its chemicals. I come home to find it gagging on a Barbie doll one of the kids put under the lid, legs sticking out, choking. Hair … Continue reading

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