My life is plastic. From my credit card to my microwave, nine tenths of what I own is stamped out of a brittle, worthless reminder of how far removed I am from the natural world.
But on a deeper level too, my life is plastic. I spend a large part of my time I have glued to a computer screen, displaying an image that is the essence of ephemeral, for if, at any point in the long chain of power supply or data transfer, a link is broken, it will not be displayed. My life is utterly a product of modern constructions. It rests on a framework that a power outage would destroy.
I read in one of my medical texts that the sun exposure a person gets between 0 and 18 years old is 80% of the exposure they will get in a lifetime.
Isn't that unsettling?
2 comments:
I suppose you are too young to recognize this: "I just want to say one word to you -- just one word -- 'plastics.' "
The power thing, the plastic thing, okay... the sun thing, that is the disturbing part. I hope to never dislike the outdoors enough to spend my life cooped up inside all the time. Yay for sun. Yay for days of bright happy dancing in the streets. Yay for warmness and frolicking in the sunbeams.
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