fromNature
1 week agoThe singular proposition of trees
For me, it is a presence. A nudge. A gentle hand slowly turning my chin towards the windows, where their white trunks reach skywards and their golden leaves glow in the three-sun dawn. I find myself pressing my fingers to the tempered glass when I'm supposed to be conducting experiments or tidying up the mess hall. My feet work their way into the airlock without conscious reason.
Writing
