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152 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 12, 2022
The thing about fucking off to the woods is that unless you are a very particular, very rare sort of person, it does not take long to understand why people left said woods in the first place. Houses were invented for excellent reasons, as were shoes, plumbing, pillows, heaters, washing machines, paint, lamps, soap, refrigeration, and all the other countless trappings humans struggle to imagine life without.
They did not want to sightsee. They wanted a cold drink and a shady spot and to not so much as glance at their ox-bike for a couple days, and while the spice blum blossoms were indeed beautiful, they did not need to stop at every single fucking tree.
Despite their number and close proximity, none of the treetops were touching one another. It was as though someone had taken an eraser and run it cleanly through the canopy, transforming each tree into its own small island contained within a definitive border of blue sky. [...] Somehow, in the absence of contact, they knew exactly where to stop growing outward so that they might give their neighbors space to thrive.