a bouquet of dogwood flowers

i love it so bad when one of my boyfriends gets along with another … … … … … no but really: what do you do when a bit of home is lying in wait on the other side of some daunting frontier and catches you by surprise just when, at last, you’ve submitted to being a perpetual stranger in a strange land? me, i tried first to explain the relationship between roanoke and the cumberland gap, to describe the smell of a bouquet of dogwood flowers. then i stopped; talking seemed not the point. sort of like now? there’s something important, i think, to be said here about the circular transmission of culture, and in this moment of video-trimming and caption-tapping i’m not up to the limnial task, so i’ll just keep taking pleasure in the listen.

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