TRIANA REID | LULL I went up the mountain, on wheels, to look at the first snow. Round in patches. If there were more words then cold & wet & white surely, I would use them now. Brittle, perhaps? Heart-quickening. Soon enough the weather will be so full there will be no need for descriptors and as always, the snow will blanket all there ever was.
34
Volume 17 • 2022
