Today is the day that our very own advice columnist, Word Witch Rebecca Cook, offers up advice for your lovely little heart. This is our first installment. If you need advice, you can email her (lunawordwitch @ gmail.com)
Dear Word Witch,
My love has left me. What must I do?
You must buy many lime-green and purple umbrellas and go out into the rain. And walk. And slap through puddles. You must wear shiny red rubbery slick boots and you must listen to whichever wind calls to you. You must stand facing to the east in the evening and the west in the morning and you must cry out for your lover. But you must whisper. And you must wear white gloves with tiny buttons all the way to your elbows. And nothing but lemon water must pass your lips for forty days. And you must lie down and press your mouth against the throat of the sky and kiss her, kiss her, and your love will return to you.