Abstract:
Seattle’s jaded generations find hope in the new city farms.
I love how Australians call a campfire a ‘bush telly’. It just makes so much sense: the magnetism of the thing, the endless variety you can see in a frame that from a distance appears unchanging. The way it draws people to it is almost spiritual, beyond any considerations of warmth or light, and perhaps clasps the end of that thread in us that leads back to a more ancient man, when the fire was about survival.
Details / PDF:
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