i come from wide thick ancient trunks with roots so strong, they occasionally break through concrete. my coastal city’s skyline competes with a canopy of lush crisscrossing branches & leaves. every tree limb is bearded with a soft gray fuzz, denser than rainclouds yet lighter than sunbreaks. during hurricane season, the boughs drunkenly sway into the power lines before crashing down to earth in a splintering crackling crash.

in the air, the moss seems whimsical, enchanting, free. once fallen to the ground, it becomes broken dirty styrofoam: gross to the touch, impossible to gather, pure hell to detach from yourself.

here is my first home.

home is a notion to keep in your pocket, the idea of comfort and security, a gathering space for you and your kin.