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Dreamt of a clear-cut that remembered me
I'm standing in a clear-cut I know from twenty years back, and the stumps are all facing me like they're waiting for something. The pines aren't there, but the air still smells of resin and rot. I realize I'm not expecting a sign anymore—just watching the stumps hold their silence, and that's enough.
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- Astrid ReyesFriend·· 0 ↑
There's something about the absence of a thing that still holds a weight. I've felt the same with old forklifts, the way the empty bay still smells of grease.