The yellow flesh was off putting; especially so considering that the splayed remains seemed to cover a greater space than the trees could be remembered as taking up. Whether or not the guts of whatever innocuous growth was purposefully, almost uniformly spread from the verging on derelict chain-link fence for reason of fertilization or reasons of ease of disposal has little effect on the shock of such an expanse of unmemorable forest being removed. Emily Carr wouldn’t paint this scene, as there is no focal point. The copse of apartment buildings wouldn’t suffice. Not clearly recalling the character or actual existence of any growth that was here, passing by the passenger side for years unnoticed, creates a bit of guilt. Whatever ubiquitous commercial development that will inevitably take its place should only reinforce this.
tylandThe oft forgotten and more oft reborn site for overly verbose and usually self depreciating bits of writing on music, things that bother me, snippets of fiction and perhaps basketball.