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Wafts of smells hang motionless amidst the desolate environment of this lethargic garbage disposal. The languid green river swells through the town, disseminating all that is on its path. This is the mother river, having served for many years to make its banks luxurious. Today it simply poisons those who dare to adventure within its contaminated waves. After many years, nothing much remains: no more fresh water, no more swimming fish, not even plants growing by the banks.
Nothing, but four stranded little red flowers, appearing in the dark and thick water of the river, four red lights glow and dim, four red flowers bloom and wither, four red hands open and close. Spirits of a long gone flora, the enlightened roses glimmer as a bearer of hope for a more cautious future, where nature is not an expendable resource. Sustainable beauty, that renews as the seasons go on, flowers symbolize the true perseverance of nature when confronted with human devastation. [Jack Mur] |
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