Trunk Sold to Real Estate Developers
Created | Updated Aug 12, 2003
There was this island, I have been there in my youth, vast planes of reeds and grasses the higher areas covered with willow and sea-buckthorn. Chasing rabbits in the sandy dunes and sneaking onto the seals as they rest in their lagune until the sun goes down. Sleeping under the bright stars of a deep black night.
Then came the building machines digging roads in the planes. Stamping houses on the shores and eventually putting a fence around the compound. The guard towers on the corners suggested any escape would be inpossible. Jet people pay to get in and spend their hollidays inside this park. The question is to feel sorry for them tourists or for the lost deserted island. I do feel sorry for the seals while it was their home that has gone.
There is an oak tree in the center of the park.
No new word touristism, it happens all the time all over the world. However it remains to be seen who is losing as most are and always will be behind the fence of their own choise.
Then came the building machines digging roads in the planes. Stamping houses on the shores and eventually putting a fence around the compound. The guard towers on the corners suggested any escape would be inpossible. Jet people pay to get in and spend their hollidays inside this park. The question is to feel sorry for them tourists or for the lost deserted island. I do feel sorry for the seals while it was their home that has gone.
There is an oak tree in the center of the park.
No new word touristism, it happens all the time all over the world. However it remains to be seen who is losing as most are and always will be behind the fence of their own choise.
