Taking card stock #6

Fuck the strangling vine of progress. Plant me a slow growing tree with thick bark, which drinks deeply, but slowly, letting the important aspects of the environment seep in and become incorporated into its very being. And let this wisdom unfurl in its leaves, not trapped within the trunk wood, where its beauty is only visible in its destruction, like so many revelations at a funeral. My mind was clearcut by technology and now hosts only the quickest growing and invasive weeds. I’ve long since stopped fertilizing it and am constantly amazed that anything grows at all, and then disappointed I cannot shelter in its cool redwood shade—though at its very edges, hidden a folded recess must wait a Wollami pine—otherwise I would already be extinct.