getting into bed on a December night by Ellen Bass
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“Winter is the only true season of touching. In winters, no matter how efficiently you dress up, a raindrop will find you. Fogs will enshroud you and leave their wetness on your face. Dry, cold air will crack your lips. As you inhale, mist will touch your nostrils and the inside of your throat. You will feel winter’s touch on the backs of your ears. Winter’s physicality reaches everywhere.”
— Nikita Arora, A history of botany and colonialism touched off by a moss bed
(via halcynth)
