We Are Never Truly Alone
In Richmond, the trees are not where they should be. In their gangly adolescence, each was planted in a rectangular bed along the curb; situated 40 feet apart, the beds leave ample space for the canopies to spread, but measuring six-by-eight-foot, they are perhaps too small for the lower half. The roots of the oldest trees, older than the inhabitants who live indoors, have extended from their little box and into the sidewalks, creating fault lines for us to leap over.