Status Updates From The Orchid Stories

This book is so very strange...I'm torn between wishing for it to be over and wishing for it to never end...

White is the color of true memory, I soon discerned. The pale green of old fjords changes to a vivid emerald hue in retrospect, and the foam of old oceans grows more and more violent, till rainbows in the spume bubbles start arching this way and that. Each spectrum starts drawing attention to itself—until what might have been a true memory veers into the realm of hallucination.