what must the roses think?
The sky is a silvered photo
and the wheat still needs a drink.
It seems modern life is defined by a series of squares. Computer screens are rounded squares. TV screens are squares. Many of us work in cubicles, defined by file cabinets and shelves and other detritus.
With some notable exceptions (the vaulted arch, the geodesic dome), our living spaces are defined by squares, rectangles, and straight lines.
Movie screens may be modeled on the Golden Rectangle, which I suspect is inspired by the average field of vision. But doesn't it seem as though our field of vision should be round? Our eyes are round, our eye sockets are (roughly) oval — as are our heads.
The human body has more circles and curves than straight lines. The natural world is full of curves. Is there a tree that produces a branch that is perfectly straight, whose sky-ward progress would satisfy a plumb-line?
What sort of dissonance does it create when we force ourselves into these squares? We know the consequences of forcing a square peg into a round hole, but what happens with the reverse?
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