March 2018 in western North Carolina. The pellucid, almost neon green of spring is just beginning to return, and the ground is damp and spongy from a very wet winter. A month before, I was in Southern California, where nothing is ever damp or spongy, where parrots alight in the branches of unfamiliar trees, where a seemingly perpetual light strikes the arid rocks of barren mountaintops, and there never seems to be a reason to be sad.
Truths Breathed Through Silver
Truths Breathed Through Silver
Truths Breathed Through Silver
March 2018 in western North Carolina. The pellucid, almost neon green of spring is just beginning to return, and the ground is damp and spongy from a very wet winter. A month before, I was in Southern California, where nothing is ever damp or spongy, where parrots alight in the branches of unfamiliar trees, where a seemingly perpetual light strikes the arid rocks of barren mountaintops, and there never seems to be a reason to be sad.