A
“golf course view” so revered and celebrated, leaves me cold,
somewhat troubled. Where did the trees go, the animals who busied
themselves there, the wild grasses in shades of rust and henna...
fields now turned into manicured lawns, wet with poisons and little
signs. We try to do that wherever we go, seeking Disneyland heaven.
So we can chase a ball? What we're given isn't enough, we need to
change it, homogenize it, squeeze out all the flavor as we run
unthinking after some vague need for control and familiarity...rape
wrapped up in a beautiful fur coat, and called progress. I won't
argue the point, it is what it is. Sometimes I just feel bad about
our clueless, heavy handed stewardship, and about myself. We are our
own worst enemy and I suspect our inevitable evolution to end in
extinction. The ants won't care, they never even noticed our brief,
Jackbooted stompings.
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