Heading for the mountains again. To crawl out of the urban sludge that is visually and distinctly marked off from the blue clarity of the tall mountains by a dense layer of opaque grey exhaust soup.
Those winking glints of light that reach your eye from miles away that seem to be coming from the sides of distant mountains are other cars making that same ascent, and maybe they have that same motive...to reach this place that is untainted by that grain that characterizes population. Or maybe they have other motives.
I think of the grain and filth and wonder why we of all creatures produce such negative bi-products to sustain ourselves. But what if we are part of nature? What if this is how nature is supposed to look like as it exists, that these cities and gases and wastes are our anthills and that we just see ourselves as superbeings that somehow exist seperately from the life on this world simply because we think with such complication. This is nature and this is the natural state of things as they progress and take form and this is all inevitable in the face of existence. Then nature as our common definition suggests is just a simplified account of life. The real nature includes us, our antills, and the chemicals that they produce.
Even if that is the case, I still don't care for it, and I prefer to avoid heavy population density anyway.
A brief goodbye. These goodbyes I don't hate because there is a return. Thus the goodbye fades almost as soon as it is declared. It is the long ones...and the permanent ones that I hide from in apprehension, and wish that they would stop scratching at my door when my will dissolves.
-The Piece
