Somewhere in the ocean is an island made of plastic.
I know this is true, I’ve seen it on Discovery Channel.
There, out in the waters, all our discarded plastic clumps together, brought by the wind and the current, in a mass larger than the state of Texas. Our plastic doesn’t decompose, you see, so every time we throw plastic away, it’s inevitably drawn to one enormous oceanic hub.
Plastic trash island.
It’s terrifying to see, if you see it. A testament to our waste, our hubris.
And as we speak, a million vuvuzelas make their pilgrimage to this island.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Short story, Vuvuzela
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