Humans do not orchestrate every important thing that happens.
Stories are not disposable. Stories are the living, breathing middle of all things. They should not be thrown away. So along with new writing and updates there will be reposting of tales from these years of blogging.
There is a lake very near Butte Montana. It is one of the largest lakes in the United States. Forty billion gallons of what can very nearly not be called water anymore.
This lake is very special. Called the Pit by the residents of Butte, the water is red and it’s surface shimmers like liquid mercury.
It was made of human ignorance and self-importance, a vision of power before wisdom. The people that made this place are like many of us. Toddlers who are smart enough to open the bottle of drain cleaner but inexperienced about what will happen when we drink it.
This lake was once the top of a great mountain pushed into existence by the steady dance of shifting plates beneath the surface of the Earth. This mountain was somewhere in the neighborhood of 300 million years olde when it began to be bled for copper. It…
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