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In another life you would have learned to cook.
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Emma pushes through the door of the corner market, aiming briskly for her car, keys in one hand, grocery bag in the other, shoulder bag slung. Best not to make eye contact with the loitering boozers and bikers from the bar next door. Double take. Can't…
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On witnessing the community of harvest, and the weird orange of the dirt roads, the gridded stretch of farm meeting forest, the soft barrel-shapes found in the fields and barns and clouds alike, the animal scents trailing off the free-roaming herds, and t
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