Sunday, July 1, 2012


I went back to the highway this morning to see the newly laid pavement.
(Really, I just had to cross the road on my way to get an early
morning latte.) As usual, I was struck by the textures carved into
the old pavement by the concrete saws and grading equipment, and
the differing colors between the old layers of cement and asphalt.

Here looking like a sun flare, the tarry adhesive has been splashed
onto the retaining wall. Centuries from now, if the warring human species 
survives its own stupidity, archaeologists will be spinning in their
pith helmets trying to figure out the drink cups, water bottles,
and beer cans thrown into the site by workers and
passers-by. But what about the rocks? Will it matter that the material
used to make the roadbed has come from a different place
than where it was found? Will they confuse the sometimes
beautiful textures for art (as I do)? 

Eh, they won't give a fuck.

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