Secrets of the Talking Jaguar

"...I'd been here before, my eyes misting up like the white fog hugging these forested cliffs, unfettered for the first time, feeling like maybe the breast was coming to my own messy face, not just for milk, but as a subtle home for my desires, luring me like a trumpet flower, asking me to leave what I knew and become the shiny bird I had to be." ~ Martín Prechtel