The Many Colors

Yes, Fall has fallen upon the island. It fell quickly yet colorfully, even if it is all but a temporal illusion.









Illusion is a word not used here, yet nonetheless is well understood, here on Soybean Island. Life, as it were, is a permanent illusion to the locals, those who willfully imbibe in the innate propaganda that defines the community. As it were.

But, colors!









Of course, Dear Non-Reader, my intrepid self is not fooled. Or, I am a fool not to be fooled. Yes, for a while I had been properly subjugated, subsumed and sublimated, reeducated into a Stockholm Syndrome existence. And, was that preferable? Is ignorance truly bliss?

I do not know.

Ask your goldfish in its bowl.

Again: Colors!

Visit Soybean Island

Of course, besides illusion and boredom, one must have:



Little plastic flags!

(Also in colors!)

(And Good Drainage—but I believe you've seen enough drainage photos for a while.)

Yet, as I wandered Dry Cleaner Park among all the dying beauty, well dormant-ing, I did find a kindred spirit among the arbors:




Sad little drooping tree. Sad sad sad.

But:



COLORS!

(And



ducks.)

Goodbye from Soybean Island