The Golden Myth
The air in the greenhouse of the St. Jude’s community garden did not smell of soil and damp earth, as one might expect from a place dedicated to the cultivation of life, but instead carried a heavy, metallic tang, thick with the scent of ozone and rotting pine needles that seemed to seep from the very pores of the translucent plastic walls, a pervasive, suffocating aroma that coated the back of...
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