98//365 / by Rebecca Tillett

98//365
98//365

(98//365) Everything dead is reborn and the transition is startling. Instantly stagnant blood is coursing through me, my heart is beating with purpose and my entire body feels like a sponge. Every year the winters feel longer and more perforating and death seems to last forever. But I'm alive. Sometimes a little warm sunshine on my skin is enough of a reminder.