Celebrating Diane Jacobs’ “Forest Swatch”

When I am lost and I am looking around for some pattern, some sort of meaning within the seemingly infinite that presents itself I find it necessary to focus on what is before me, those small and true tangibles that ground me in connection.

In this way collections are only stories that touch on truths too grand for groups of letters to embrace.

But their gridded forms try anyway. The way you love a lichen is to try.