Chiascuros In Highway Forests
WRITTEN BY CELINE CHOI
The forest has yielded miles of exactly opposite to where we are supposed to be, with the
caveat that the trees in the forest are collapsing, and eyes have bored through the gaps.
I have a gut suspicion that tongues curled whispering pretty
yews, oaks, and pines are what is human in us talking. Quick,
a planet with just us cannot be fathomed not unlike the
unfathomed nature of humans to change. After all,
anatomy of trees is just as immutable as
neurocircuitry. So, when highway forests
come to dust, I too come to dust as dust
as dust.