Spark

It has always been like this inside the woods: trees subdivide the sky, flowers track the sun, moss and stone make configurations along streambeds drying in summer’s heat. Today there is a fastening and then an unfastening as three girls who play there become something else. Two transform themselves from girls to killers back into girls. They toss knives in the dry river like skipping rocks, shed bloodied clothing like pulling wings off a fly, dance like butterflies in dappled sunlight. They cover one’s body with sticks, with stones, with dried leaves that crackle like tinder in their small fists.

Photo credit: Dalvenjah