great gatsby

Years of accumulated rage or fear or sorrow you thought safely buried, converted to fertile soil, can smolder underground for years, burn like a peat fire thought extinguished, dressed in flowering dogwood and jewel weed, undetectable behind eyes calm as summer sky. Then suddenly a smoke wraith appears, a small flame licks a stand of dry cat tails, a twig, a half-rotted log, and soon the whole swamp erupts. All the beautiful animals inside you …

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