We're this: simmering murder, bottomless greed, vast ignorance and voracious appetite restrained by fear, if at all, with a desperate desire to escape ourselves by consuming each other.
I am not separate, but I don't want to be this.
Felt a little better about things walking in the woods this evening. Hunter's Moon rising. That is until I walked up through the state Wildlife Management Area and saw spent shotgun shells scattered around the dirt road. Grouse feathers. Pheasant too. Crushed paper coffee cups. Crisscrossed four-wheel-drive tracks in the hardened mud gave the field a look of desecration. A dead partridge draped across a branch. More ugly.
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