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how to recapture the freedom of access. how to remember having forests within arms' reach when life bared its teeth. fresh air like balm. sand and sunsets and the quiet that is not silence, but is punctured by unaggressive sound: laughter. wind in branches. waves.
this city is like a stranger prowling around your house at night, knocking over your flimsy side-gate, your garbage cans.
sleeping under deep green shelters of leaves, i felt safe, despite the risk of bears and falling branches. what scares me is the desperation that creeps into people's eyes when humanity is cut off from rivers and roses, from ferns uncoiling, mushrooms dancing their slow way along the forest floor. we need green, and beauty, and the cessation of this constant clamor of cars and sirens, alarms and barking dogs.
we need wild spaces, we need them in order to breathe. the night sky is thick with orange streetlight and the harsh glow of illuminated liquor stores and gas stations, while we fall to our knees on the concrete, squinting upwards, begging just to see the stars.
27 february 2022
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