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Sometimes I find mushrooms
on my way to work
We do photoshoots
and I sing to myself
As I carry on
my merry way.

They make me late to work
Those little photoshoots
But I care more about fungi
than this little dead-end job.

Sometimes I find mushrooms
on my way back from work
But I don’t make time for photos
I’d rather be at home.

I found this little mushroom today while I was waiting for my 3rd bus to work. Nestled in the nook of a tree, it was less than an inch tall.

Will anybody else see this mushroom while waiting for the bus?

How often do people notice things that nobody else will ever see? That mushroom doesn’t need attention. Not like people do. It gets to just be.

I wonder what that’s like.

They look lonely, just a single mushroom like that. Do they feel lonely? And if they can feel lonely, might they also feel trapped? I doubt it.

Underground, they can move wherever they want. There’s no dead-end jobs, just dead sticks. Pebbles, instead of money troubles.

There’s so much life underground. Fungi, insects, animals, plants. Really, there’s life all around.

Death is often associated with being underground. Hades. We bury our dead. Elephants do, too. In the forest, carcasses are reclaimed by the soil.

I wonder what it’s like, underground; Where life is so close to death.

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