It’s cool when fashion recycles itself, it’s not cool when sustainable living does because it means there was (and is as I write) a period of absolute and possibly irreversible destruction.

The ribboned gallons that rule us like beliefs rooted in single experiences.

Concrete breathes sun's heat.

We were of thirteen minds, like a tree, in which there is one Red-tail and eleven squirrel parts.

Dew moves mountains.

Naming nature doesn't tame nature.

The whispers inside the red wheelbarrow's dew.