Dispatch from the Wild Interior: November 10, 2020
/Page of Swords: Every impulse has a price but you have feathers to spare. If you move fast enough, time curls in on itself and you’re young enough again to grab life by the blade and never think to look back. What must you shed to achieve liftoff? To what storm shut your eyes to keep flying? What would an earlier, wilder, freer you do?
