Which frightens you most, the Ancient voices that come to you on the wind, cutting like slivers of ice on a cold day, or the faces and headless torsos that show themselves in dream?
Señora?
Which frightens you most, the Ancient voices that come to you on the wind, cutting like slivers of ice on a cold day, or the faces and headless torsos that show themselves in dream?
God at the Kitchen Sink 