Pneuma

The storm rumbles, a bed sinks into the night. My mother, sisters, brother and I share stories of humans and plants. In the old days, we used to cling to the trees to heal. In the old days, ... Read allThe storm rumbles, a bed sinks into the night. My mother, sisters, brother and I share stories of humans and plants. In the old days, we used to cling to the trees to heal. In the old days, we used to burn for our medicines. Under the reflections of a moon, foliage moves with the... Read allThe storm rumbles, a bed sinks into the night. My mother, sisters, brother and I share stories of humans and plants. In the old days, we used to cling to the trees to heal. In the old days, we used to burn for our medicines. Under the reflections of a moon, foliage moves with the naked eye, bacteria fertilize the air and herbariums threaten: the day will come when the... Read all