Every student must be drunk on the air’s intoxicants without even knowing. It’s a Christmas of lignin. Old, lost friends. Trees she has never seen. Pines spinning out cones in perfect Fibonacci swirls. Backwater genera—Maytenus, Syzygium, Ziziphus. She combs them and all the bedding plants beneath for extracts to replace the ones the TSA confiscated.
