Old love songs my granny disparaged/ as longing for the wrong things, telling/ the sand end of wanton desire.
4.01
![](https://i0.wp.com/cutleafjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/iotw2147a-1.jpeg?resize=363%2C188&ssl=1)
I Remember Halloween
The Devil’s just a part of us—people in general, my mother herself, and even first grade me. In a single sentence, my mom had demonstrated a certain sophistication, given her child comfort, and scared the living hell out of him.
![](https://i0.wp.com/cutleafjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/iotw2025a-1.jpeg?resize=363%2C188&ssl=1)
Not Lucky Enough
Not everyone is interested in having a big career. I can’t count how many times I’ve said that to people who are like, “but didn’t you go to Harvard?”