writing
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I picked up the next skull, the third of the seven Myocastor coypus waiting to be measured and tagged. The incisors–burnt orange streaking the ivory teeth–clicked softly within the hollow of the maxilla as I turned it over, searching for faint ink marks that would tether it to the legacy catalog. But I see no…
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When I’m dead, give me back to the trees. If they have forgiven my ignorance, hold no ill-will that it took so long for me to learn–learn their names, their fruits and leaves and texture of their skin. Every day they gave. Food to eat, a home to sleep in, air to breathe. When I’m…
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Once there was a girl who found a seed. She new that within would be something beautiful. So she bought a pot and some soil and gave it a home. She tended to her seed, giving it water and warmth from the sun bleeding through the window. And with time, it grew, safe from the…
Scientist Seeking 