My favorite thing about being both a writer and an artist is the better I get at life the more seamlessly I can capture some wild stuff, and the more I discover how truly atavistic all this experience of Life really is.
Our ancestors were into some epic shit.
We are the seeds of entire felled realms sprouting. Multiple realms. The ground is chock full of seeds. The earth. And that’s what we are literally made out of some fucking how And return to.
So all the seeds from all those realms are scattered across our cellular walls.
And you don’t always know with seeds. Sometimes you don’t know what you have in your ass until you learn how to water you. And sometimes, thanks to bees, winds & birdshit cherry trees bloom in apple orchards.
We all know there IS seed, time & harvest but all things planted are running on clocks they keep even from themselves. Including us.
How is a human a plant?
The egg & sperm of you had to be planted in the lining of your mother’s womb for you to even be here reading that previous sentence and balking at it lol.