Lustomic Orchid Garden Terminal Island Now
Lena stopped breathing.
No signature. No return address.
“You came,” he said. No smile.
03/14/2019 – Fukushima Coastline. 08/23/2005 – New Orleans, 9th Ward. 09/11/2001 – Lower Manhattan, dust. lustomic orchid garden terminal island
“Terminal Island was a quarantine station once. Then a prison. Then a shipbreaking yard.” He gestured at the containers. “Now it’s the world’s only custom-genome orchid nursery. Every flower here was designed to remember something.” Lena stopped breathing
The fog over Terminal Island always smelled of rust and salt, but tonight it carried something else—a sweet, almost cloying perfume. Lena pulled her coat tighter and followed the scent toward the old shipping container lot. 9th Ward. 09/11/2001 – Lower Manhattan
Lena stopped breathing.
No signature. No return address.
“You came,” he said. No smile.
03/14/2019 – Fukushima Coastline. 08/23/2005 – New Orleans, 9th Ward. 09/11/2001 – Lower Manhattan, dust.
“Terminal Island was a quarantine station once. Then a prison. Then a shipbreaking yard.” He gestured at the containers. “Now it’s the world’s only custom-genome orchid nursery. Every flower here was designed to remember something.”
The fog over Terminal Island always smelled of rust and salt, but tonight it carried something else—a sweet, almost cloying perfume. Lena pulled her coat tighter and followed the scent toward the old shipping container lot.
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