I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant’s way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in.
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Angie McCullagh’s writing has appeared in X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, Barren Magazine, and elsewhere. One of the best days of her life was spent tobogganing down the Great Wall of China. She lives in Seattle, Washington.
He has developed a shorthand response to my entreaties: Landfill, he hisses, and he walks away.