2 MILLION BLOSSOMS


“Wait,” I hollered absurdly to the river of wings streaming through the oyamel firs and Mexican pines. Where the road curved to the leſt, downhill towards the bustle of Zitacuaro, the monarch butterflies stayed course. Tey dove into the forest, and I was leſt alone on my bicycle. I was ten miles into a 10,200 mile adventure, hoping to follow the migrating monarchs from Mexico to Canada and back.


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