Saturday, June 10, 2006

Albuquerque, New Mexico

I don't know how many different species or subspecies of ant live in Albuquerque, but not because I didn't ask. I count at least four: small red, small black, large red, large black. The large black ants are as long as my thumbnail.1 The carry away anything: bread crumbs, scraps of paper, bits of tobacco from cigarette butts, feathers. From these objects, it is hard to know if they are building farms, warehouses, factories, barracks.

If you are an ant you can find something to do on every yard on every block. Half the city is building upwards, toward the stars, and if you wish you can climb the metallic skeletons and glass-and-granite skin to great heights. The view here is quite something, though safely returning to the ground can be difficult. Your half of the city is building downwards, toward the center of the earth, and if you wish you can travel there as well. The tunnels are dark and you have to navigate by smell and touch alone.

Where do your tunnels lead? How many of you are there? Something is going on below the surface. If only you'll tell us just what.

1 Trimmed.

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