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Along the route I normally take to lunch, I passed through an empty lot that I learned to love, to pay attention to. Something was always changing, growing. I watched the red scrubgrass take over the tracks left by construction equipment parking, it followed by a more delicate green grass, very recently growing numerous, tall and strong. I learned where to step when it had rained to avoid both the mud and damaging the plant life.

Last week, construction began in that lot. I was moderately curious to see what they were putting in; I imagined another overpriced restaraunt or fast food stand, but now the answer is clear; it's a parking lot. I've never felt an affinity for Joni Mitchell until today. Damn it, why can't I live in the land of phor, of Ding an Sich, at least for a little while?

Date: 2005-05-12 07:18 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] adifferentriver.livejournal.com
I understand... I get the same feeling about that fool next door with his chainsaw. Why must people go and ruin things?

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