The wishfulness

They had tamed the land here, subdued it with plough and planting and crop rotation. There remained no shadow of its former wildness. In time, architects would excavate it;academics would examine it and museums exhibit it, or at least tiny amputated parcels of it. But the land, iceberg-like, would always be largely unseen.

Who would know, then, of its birth, its formative years, its youthful wilderness, the sediment of its middle age, its dignified collapse? The land, half slipped away already, looked at the world through heavy eyes. If only it had told somebody. If only somebody had heard.

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