meagan.sullivan
It withered and died on the windowsill. The dirt underneath it was cracked and dried, choking the life out of it. Like an old woman's hand. The life leaking out till its paper.
I climb over the rocky terrain. This is my dream. This is what I want to do. To be out in nature, one with it, breathing in the oxygen and breathing out carbon dioxide, a cycle. Me and the plants. We work together.