If I had my camera with me this morning during my walk along the beach, I'd have taken pictures of the mounds of trash. Most of the mounds are in bags, which are stacked up beside the trash cans that are along the beach. Crews have been at work for hours before sunrise; I don't think that the crowds of people at the beach yesterday neatly bagged their trash before they left.
As I walked, I paid attention to the trash that I saw. It will all be picked up by later today, but for now, random pieces of trash lined the Broadwalk. I was most struck by the debris that once we would have hauled home: coolers, umbrellas, a variety of clothes.
In a history class long ago, our teacher reminded us that most of what archaeologists discover comes from digging in the garbage dumps of former societies. I often wonder what future archaeologists will make of our trash. Certainly they will comment on the huge amount of plastic.
This morning, I looked at all the trash, both the collective version and the individual pieces, and I thought about the symbolism. What could we learn if we use this trash as a symbol?
I plan to write a poem on this very topic. What will you write as the week winds down?
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