View from a plane of dense suburbs against a mountain range, with empty desert beyond.

Edges and boundaries, desert edition. Flying over patterns on the earth we’ve made with our growing and fighting and fucking and feeding, even in the most inhospitable places, and I’m thinking of the mold blooms that never leave our bathroom, a recent tropical-virus-of-the-week map, blotches of dermatophytosis on an elderly woman in front of me at the grocery store this morning. Sometimes from above this just seems like some weird scab you could scratch off, leaving the dry land to quickly heal underneath.