As if a million things could spring from a single root, and each one of them ready to bloom. This is an amazing structure of busyness that the average person sees as a clump of texture. Or sees not at all. Something on the side of a parking lot. Something brownish and greenish. I must confess that there is so much happening here that it is difficult to see. What does one focus on? What does one finally comprehend? What does it say exactly? Its purpose is obvious, but its process is supremely mysterious.