Thursday, August 22, 2002
Standing in the sun like an arrogant god, looking down, pointing.
The running green forest canopy below terminates in thick black smoke and licking flame.
"The Guatemalans, they are protesting Belize again, the border. They are burning the rainforest to push us back."
Under my feet, rock rubbed smooth by time, carried from the sea on the backs of the doomed, the weak, the faithful. Stepping on history, watching the future burn.
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