Breathing in Trees Out West
I’m on a little walkabout (driveabout) in the wildfire-ravaged West to visit my long time friend, Anne. Ever since I left Boise, my eyes are burning, sinuses stuffed and the nearer I get to the Dixie Fire the worse it gets.
I can’t shake the sensation that with every breath I’m breathing in trees, or their ghosts anyway. What I’m ingesting has shape-shifted into vapor. Solid matter gone up in smoke. It breaks my heart.
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