Apocalysettes and the gomi no sensei

Snow.

Cars slow, collars up, ducks look confused.

It's not the end of the world that I want to see, so much as a series of changes in it and our handling of artifacts, that speaks a material honesty.

Homes for example. I want to see new buildings go old as they bend a little under the elements. I want to see unusually short tables find a new calling as chairs. I want to see squats that turn junk into houses. Give me islands made of garbage, not just sitting on it.

Scavenging is not only honest but spiritual.

                   I want to see the guts of things.
       What if we used ladders on the outside of buildings to get around?
 Or if the plumbing wsn't hidden but a feature of every room, built into furniture and everyday use?

What if the oil ran out tomorrow? Electric trolley wires traverse the navigable cities. Elsewhere there be bicycles; in the suburbs, reclusus and gardens that crack the asphalt; in the bedroom communities,  dragons. Skyrises served by carts from the fields. It would be beautiful to watch the old not destroyed, but disassembled.

It is not fire I seek, but roots that crack sidewalks.