friday 29 june 02001 8:52am
chapter eight: scent wafts in thick as butter, and sweeter

i thought trees blossomed once a year. winter sleep, spring blossom, summer fruit, autumn decline. this was memorized from laminated paper cards that hung on the walls of a classroom decades from here, on the shore of another ocean.

i have lived on this shore now a quarter of my life. it still feels new.

then again, so does this life.

the tree outside the bedroom window was blooming in april when we moved in. it is coming into blossom again now.

i ache to know its name.