“The world, once flat to his eyes, now bristled with edges and textures. He saw the tiny grooves of petals and leaves, like fingerprints, their identities written like poems across their surfaces. He saw the slow firecrackers of pine cones,… — Remy Wilkins Copy Share Image
“The world, once flat to his eyes, now bristled with edges and textures. He saw the tiny grooves of petals and leaves, like fingerprints,… — Remy Wilkins Copy Share Image
