Cervantes Masterpiece --> a really long time is spent thinking about 

this patch of grass right ahead of me. i think about 
how far down the root system goes. i think about  all the symbiotic fungal species that might be doing something beneficial in both ways. i think about 
the potentially thousands of microscopic little animals that might be populating this patch of grass. i’m thinking about all the insects and bugs, which i think are categorically different things. i think about 
the wind movement. i think about the dirt movement in the wind. i think about 
how this patch of grass and all its constituent parts have been shaped almost certainly by the wind. i think about how everything might have been shaped by the wind. Mari told me the dunes were just the shadow of the wind. what isn’t really? i think about 
how this patch of dirt is, somehow, attributed to some sort of abstract valuation. dollar signs, signifiers in their own right, hang above, circling vultures. i’m not sure how to reckon with this. i can think about 
it, rationalize about it, intellectualize it as best i can, but the connect never really does its thing, which is connect. soon this patch of grass will be milled up by a CAT 647-something articulated dump truck scraper thing or similar and will never, ever grow in this particular spot again. i think about 
soon how that tilled patch, packed deep, will be replaced by a facsimile of grass, a domesticated grass, a sort of colonialist, imperialist grass. a grass that will demand millions of gallons of water that is not here and upkeep by people who are probably getting paid pennies to keep their families above water. these are all things i really think about. i don’t know how else to say it. i think about it all the time. i don’t even really know if i see anything in a traditional literal sense of seeing. everything is a symbol of occult power. there was a time for seeing. there was a time for looking, and determining, and that time was in the world of when this patch of grass was just one of a billion billion others like all stars, and to the effect of non-sight was just that the grass stood in relation to the field and the field in relation to the prairie and that there were things both harmful and beneficial to the body doing the observing. i think about how once this grass is gone, this grass in this field in this prairie in this biome that has persisted for time immemorial, time prior to human memory, time prior to people memory, it will never in the entire history of the entire universe ever come back or be the same. i think about how long this field has been here and how strange and sad it is that it is going away right now during my short, copernican life. i think of why now, why me, why here.