Various notes upon entering Houston, TX:
Into this world we are born:
Into the arms of Fudruckers, Sam’s Club, and the loveless breast of one thousand-mile-long strip malls, strip clubs, their shadows showcase dirt piles, a lurid shade of naked, lying fresh-grave like mountain range behind the sidelines of highways, where proud founders and their hounds wound up reckless grounding wreckage out of ground .
The meek have inherited the demented desperation of death sold cheaply - “Store Closing Forever!” and “Bankruptcy Liquidation Sale!” - where palm-trees and floodlights leer at the horror of endless, vacant parking lots, where the shape of a living thing is rare enough to look like it survived something.
Ours are the cellphone towers that blink like heart monitors; keeping the unnatural pulse of eight lane freeways, cross-stitched into monstrous, angelic arcs, where trees huddle between the weaves like nature’s lonesome tenements and we drive stoned and careful past them, another unnoticed dose of fructose in between the looming black-glass teeth of progress and it’s haunted offices. Surely we were not meant to live like this, and if so, surely there was not much meant by it.
Photos (first of Houston and it’s remains) by:
Edward Burtynsky
(Source: edwardburtynsky.com, via actegratuit)
