The slug hummed along as they slithered throughĬool and hidden from the mid-afternoon sun.īirth of the Nommos Lucifer and Inanna Conspire Hyacinthus and the Daughter of Babylon Harridan Trans Day of Resilience Muses afro/latin/a Papi Wata(s), Lilith, and the Souls of Mami Wata Forest Spirit TRANS FREEDOM Woodspruge Spirit Oracle of the Southern Marsh Grief Belongs in Social Movements. Snail: The snail fell silent and fluttered quietly for a little while with their slimy wings. And if I’m slurped up or crisped by the sun then it is my time to return to the earth and give thanks for my protection.” Every stone and leaf and puddle of soupy mud is my shell. “My delightful slimeling I implore you, the earth is my home. Vulnerable to predators and the,” they shudder, “the sun.” Snail: “Your home? My sweet you’re homeLESS. Your shell is home, but holds you back from knowing the deepest, richest, and.” the slug pauses in reflection, “moistest crevices of my home.” Slug: “Darling I prefer to be free to twist and twirl along the thinnest cracks of earth and rocks. Won’t you at least consider adopting a shell?”
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