Christmas. A storm. Veolia operatives almost overwhelmed with the stacks of recycling to be collected.
Upending boxes at dusk, thousands of paper and plastic scraps float and land in the vegetation-clogged gutters of our town.
The mashup of debris becomes part of the landscape. Do we even notice anymore, as we get our daily exercise, walking the sad streets?
Where does the environment that we all care about so deeply start and finish? Does it include that mucky gutter?