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A glistening lawn of undulating blades of grass rises one quarter of an inch above the nurturing soil, and one quarter of an inch is no small feat, no insignificant portion of a foot, or of feet. Treaded by bare feet with painted toenails, haunted by an otherworldly mist of pesticides, weighed down by travelling wasps seeking respite from the pre-ordained flight of the wasps' great work, a single blade of grass rises from its daily trampling with remarkable resiliency, an uncanny fortitude tempered both by the incentive of individual enterprise and a sense of devotion to the collective. Just beneath the surface the roots of the network intertwine and braid a deeper experience of individuality into oblivion with messy knots of interconnectedness inspiring tangled philosophies of wholism and pantheism, as well as the inevitable politicizing of such systems of thought into ideologies favoring, in no uncertain terms, the community over the citizen. Through it all the sun remains loyal to its sons, denizens of the dry summer which seems unwilling to give way to the singing winds of autumn.

Posted by James Bradley on 1/24/13

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