The air is hot and heavy, my eyes burn and my stomach is knotted from the smell. I cannot divorce this orange, smokey sky from memories of the fires that burned the hills and homes of Scripps Ranch a number of years ago. We breathe the ashes of the hills, buildings, fences and bodies surrounding us. What an endless, performing circle man has created; lining the curves of this earth with power lines, sculpting its mass into manuverable and governable forms that in turn collapse and catch fire to the body itself. I find myself torn in choosing sides for I cannot choose to side with these violent fires but I cannot support this abuse of creation. My eyes continue to sting.