I took out my pen and began drawing the other day: stressed out, overworked, 12 hours into a 24-hour shift with not enough windows and too many doors. I thought I was drawing a roadmap, something a little complicated and impossible to follow unless you slow down the car to watch where you’re going. I […]
a plant’s roots, pot-bound, grow to the shape of that which kills it gnarled comfortably below the surface. plant me in the garden where I may feel the sun and rain though I’ll bear the scorch and storm. these hungry wild vines of mine were meant to spread.