Compesinos murdered in El Salvador, children roasted in the orange fire of napalm whole populations torne from the sense of place the rape of the earth the death of oceans all merely fragments of higher meaning, wheat from chaff, contigencies in a world of higher necessity. The world is ruled by facts at hand by profit margins and observation by techniques gleaned from pure objective rationality. The unseen is unreal, and therefore, has no reality. Three trees of dogwood bloom forever on a hill red blood poured out in solidarity with the victims of rationality and an empty cave where no one mourns. All unreal, all ego, oppression, maleness.
Abstraction is reality.
I do not see the trees, I see only signifiers.