Reflections

October 9, 2019

I keep a small, dried pressed flower inside a heavy dictionary, its petals now so brittle they might turn to dust if...

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October 9, 2019

The macaw’s plumage is a riot of primary colors, evolved not for the dim light of an enclosure, but to signal across...

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October 9, 2019

In the middle of the nineteenth century, a geologist might have spent a lifetime studying the slow, rhythmic accumulation of sediment, watching...

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