I have never been to a place so well-groomed.
For at least a mile in either direction, lawns are lush, hedges trimmed, flowers bloom. Groomed right to the edge of the street, too, nothing left to chance or the force of nature. Native plants all, sure, but it is screamingly obvious that the neuveau riche like things organized, by God, and in their places. Workmen are everywhere with their grand machines, instilling order and stability, but they are so talented at what they do that the houses look – well, some of them look – as if they grew up out of the ground and shaped themselves to the land and sea stones – outcroppings, really – around them, commanding views of the ocean that some people in this world actually envy.
I find one place in all this order and good grooming that would be an ideal place to live. It’s small, so it wouldn’t take much to heat, and the landscaping would be a snap. It’s in the ocean, surrounded by rocks, isolated with no bridge. The little dark gray house with its closed up red shutters could get mighty lonely, though, so the right partner would be critical, and the right work. Really, the most you’d have to worry about in a place like that is keeping enough food on hand and maintaining harmony between the two of you. But then, I think, what good would my life be then? I mean, what use would I be in the world if I stayed in the middle of nowhere?
And I ask, what use am I now?