The fort in the corner of the field was the safest place I constructed my whole life this far. I was nine when I built it. It blocked some of the wind, but not entirely. The southeast corner of it held a shelf made out of a pine board that I had perched onto the […]
…it is easier to picture the fine, the lock, the cold house, and the eviction for each and every one [than believe a collective solution results in a fair justice system, reasonable energy prices,housing that is not rooted in metaphoric lies and the betrayal of Native Americans], and easier to accept contractual, criminal justice, and property law is made of stone instead of paper. I wonder, though, where good people turn their energy, to try and work change.