Everyone was on edge in the summer of 2020, when the pandemic had just broken out.
I was engulfed in Amherst, engulfed in this humid and sultry summer.
I've never seen such a vibrant green before, and I've never felt so compelled to embrace it. Summer and green in Amherst are quite different from what I'm used to in my hometown. In town S, there aren't many forests; they're largely green belt, the tamed green. Town S, on the other hand, was dissatisfied with the homogeneous green color, so they installed some colorful lights at night. However, I felt a little disoriented in front of this light greenery.
The green of Amherst, is a little vortex that I want to melt into immediately. During the same summer, I came upon a poem by Gloria Anzaldúa that encapsulated my feelings in the face of public crisis, spurts of need for skin-to-skin contact, and my love for woods in Amherst.
I opened myself in front of the trees, the trees embraced me.
This is the origin tale of the zine, which is dedicated to my beloved greens in Amherst.