The Inanimate Porcupine

A lively column of pain juts from a clay bowl brimming with sand. Standing at two feet, that prickly testament of Nature’s love and wit, is a dull green and its needles extend well over two inches at the most. The spines track with haphazard regularity alongside its succulent length. Disease and abrasions, acquired in circumstances a sharp prick can’t protect against, mars one side with a wooden manifestation; the cactus exhibits a certain aura of resiliency that doesn’t fail to intimidate all it comes in contact with. The sand is studded with pine cones.


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