As the ruins fall to dust so the plants garland this carcass of humanity with a living wreath of wild flowers.
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Reaching up towards the cobalt sky, the plants begin to soften our geometric edges with floral grace.
To nature, we are simply another niche and the work of our human cunning is quickly transformed into wild gardens the second we relinquish our supposed grip on this feral place.
To the mountain above, our time here is but a brief span in its long geologic being.
But even this monolithic presence of stone is aware of its impermanence as it watches the dance of the wild unfold at its feet.
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Photo: Ruins above the Canutos. Courtesy of the author.