The decline of observation

Fewer 'stanis are tearing out their hair. At a lilt they find a light powd'ry florality to the air, air unseeded and almost unnoticeable even were there wind off these ice cream peaks. The climbing time is over. Everything is tilted on the downhill, not for destruction, but for momentum. What has changed is not the cycle of life, nor evolution, not a single culture, but the culture of all. Uncommon tongues like uncommon odors no longer equate to the strange. The chill is the same felt by every underdog partisan who lived. One absorbs their birdsong ululations face to face, the perches discarded, the binoculars trampled on the ground.