We are an hour or so or more out of Chicago, flying over a square state. We are follwing a river that used to be much bigger. I happen to look down and see a small town whose epicenter is the intersection of a major dirt road, a minor dirt road, and a this river. You can tell a lot about a way a town (a people, a nation) grew up by flying over it. This town clearly was a river town. The majority of buildings were on the river-side of the minor road, which runs east west. It is a bend in the river. Boats (probably flat bottomed) headed west and hit this bend. The major road (running north south) probably hits a major city. So the boats hits the bend, stops for a bit, offloads some cargo which heads south, and the boat heads on from there. (I think the sqaure state in question is Colorado… more on that in a bit.)
So from above you see a sort of history. Cultural archeology at 30,000 feet.
(The second Brigett Jones movies is playing and is horribly distracting and all too horrible visually.)
If you can see a history from above, can you see a sort-of future from below? Is the future really below us? We always equate below with the past. That which is buried is the past. It is the past but might very well represent a sort-of future. (Sure the history repeasts itself lesson is still not learned. But this might be more than that.) Eventually, sand will blow over our roads. Our freeways buried under rough ground. Those planned development viruses squished under hundreds of feet of worm droppings and dried alien skin. Kinda takes the urgency out of cleaning the apartment…
The Rockies really do throw up quiet a barrier heading west. Amazing that anyone on foot, ox, cart, etc got to the Pacific.