The old withered pines dance slowly in the wind. I watch them sway from my vantage point on a peak. As I sit, basking in the sunlit glory, I pull out my pipe and blow smoke rings towards the heavens. Where I sit I am on a great divide; behind me I can see a terrific, sprawling wilderness that stretches back as far as I can imagine. Before me lies the home of man. Where once were mighty oaks and sunny fields there is now a sea of gray, an ocean of ugly buildings. Modernity rears its head and swallows all it can. It's hunger is insatiable.