“The park admits the wind, the petals lift and scatter like versions of myself I was on the verge of becoming; and ten years on and ten blocks down I still can’t tell whether this dispersal resembles a fist unclenching… — Rachel Wetzsteon Copy Share Image
“The park admits the wind, the petals lift and scatter like versions of myself I was on the verge of becoming; and ten years… — Rachel Wetzsteon Copy Share Image
