> Being in a place like this heightens one’s sensitivities to beauty, and I cannot help but reckon with the truth that where I come from is not nearly as beautiful: depleted, devoured, excreted. Industrialism turns Life into scar tissue; a post-industrialist world is one of long, shining ribbons of pain. How do we come back to that which is broken? How do we learn to imagine its beauty to help regenerate it? How do we become [[Indigenous]] in a place which has no more sense of itself? How do we venture out there and swim against the current when, inside, there is a ready-made world to float through? How do we choose to be here when we could be everywhere: there, there and there? `Concepts:` `Knowledge Base:`