Walking the hill behind campus, bearly bearing the pollenating micro-monsters, there’s a target bag under one of the Junipers. I instinctively pick it from under the branch, and start marching for my truck. I will keep this bag, it is a large and thicker, more durable kind, and since they will be scarce in a few years, their value is obvious.
This is pre-garbage mining.
Act as if the whole earth’s resources have already been used up, and the old toy planes, broken chairs, paper piles, are shaped into the new. Mashuped structures of collaged woodpulp pop up where there was drywall, and freshpoured concrete is multicolored mud stew. It really is treasure trash, all reformed.
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