As to us, we do not dance with the trash. We hunt it.
We hunt the trash, moving along the trace of Green.
Along that banister installed so long ago. That guide to civilisation, that taming of wildly grown greenerie, that Otto-Wagner-Green, passing through that city, taking everyone by the hand to lead them back to some cradle of good manners and style and taste …
What is it to us? We are not in need of tutelage. We are not in need of some branded “well mannered green”, behaving as if faking copper’s noble aging process, but in an instant version, to be used everywhere, on anything.
Oh green can be so treacherous!
We do eat colours, we do. We have our favourite flavours, but we also get bored easily. As we are so many and live so fast — even though fast is not the right word for a life form so remote from human time consumption.
Over there on the other bank of the river we spotted our prey.
One nasty piece of green.
We reckoned it was one of those mint green garbage bags.
What a gruesome irony, to transform a bag supposed to contain trash for their disposal in a container dedicated for trash into a piece of free floating trash.
Human behaviour cannot be understood. It probably cannot even be tolerated any longer.
Shall we end it in our own quick time?
We are not of one mind.