A Patch of Parsley and the Slow Healing of Modern Minds
On a Sunday morning, she planted the first row, her hands brushing cool earth against her skin. It was only then that she realized how much of herself she had…
On a Sunday morning, she planted the first row, her hands brushing cool earth against her skin. It was only then that she realized how much of herself she had…
With hands buried in dirt and the smell of moist earth clinging to fingertips, it starts out gently. There's no algorithm, no hurry, and no ping. Simply the obvious existence…