by Vel Prozorova Niko Photos Between the grapefruit mornings and arterial nights, little happens but the wind and the endless pulse of growing roots; because though the water comes sometimes, and doesn’t, more often, life hasn’t left this place just yet. There has always been a constant state of liminality, here. Once, there was a fence. There for no other reason than to use dead wood to surround the still-living. Curious bodies climbed it with ease, pressing close with breat