When I dissapear into the aged mountains, I don?t miss dreadful cities filled with uncordial human beings who are too busy, too rushed to know what nature sounds like. The uncanny wild is waiting for me, almost calling me by name. My companions are the faceless shadows that wander the landscape. I am mortal, but I know the personality of the wilderness, what she has not forgotten. If humans go to far, she will eventually stop them.
The people around me are so persistent, always persevering; they march forward with psychotic dreams of progress. They believe that they can conquer nature, and the Earth Mother in order to advance. They believe that somehow nature must adhere to them, and serve them. I’ve never put the wilderness above human welfare, but I am against those that exploite and would destroy beauty. Some can go into a deep canyon, and never really see anything. I sure do feel sorrow for their lack or sight. I believe people can listen to the strange things in the forest, or the mystifying roars of a river, and care for such things. Let the unknown continue it?s enigma, and secrets remain.
Yes, I prefer the dazzling vistas of cloud and rock to the monotony of everyday life. Like everyone else, I am plugged in. Like a virus, I wait.