Flax fields grew atop a rocky mountain. Never suspecting they would be trampled, the pretty blue flowers waved at trucks filled with chemicals. They expected to become fiber, fabric, clothing, paper; to end in a spark of light and heat, ascending to the sun. That is what their ancestors had done.
But they were destined to die under machines that would mine shale, producing oil that would make polyester, gas that would become electricity to power the paper of the internet. Their glory short lived, the flowers photosynthesized carbon from the atmosphere, but not enough to cool the warming earth.
Hans Christian Anderson, The Flax inspired this story.
2 thoughts on “Fracking Flax”
Not a story I’m familiar with, and lacking your usual ironic wit. Maybe it’s that kind of Monday.
Yeah, I’m feeling political lately.