adam

the euphoria of ondi ahman settled on me like a mixture of mist and sunlight that soothed my blood with effervescent callings. / to present my chest to a gallery of trees showing them that my heart was open to roots. / oh the paradox of purity: touch it and you die, touched and it dies: god. i cannot capture an untouched nature, except through a glancing mirror or glancing in the mirror.