by Meryem Yildiz
the first morning of spring, it isn’t, but it gives us a taste.
the plants are thirsty, stems languid. i mist them with vinegar by mistake. i wipe their leaves one by one, strokes long and generous. i could be swimming,
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Greetings, dear readers!
I’m currently writing this editorial in Montréal at my family’s dinner table with the back door open and a slight breeze rustling papers next to me. It’s still a bit brisk with spring on its way out but I’ve been admiring the recently bloomed peonies in our garden.
by Meryem Yildiz
the first morning of spring, it isn’t, but it gives us a taste.
the plants are thirsty, stems languid. i mist them with vinegar by mistake. i wipe their leaves one by one, strokes long and generous. i could be swimming,
Read More