In some places, our modern, underground tracks of concrete and steel rose from the depths like a cold, grey serpent, looming over our heads, huge pillars plunging from great heights into the ground below. I was leaned against one such concrete beam, sheltered from the rain by the towering track. Soon, it would be evening. Traffic raged behind me, just 20 feet away, but I was deaf to the noise, for before me was a vast, wasted forest, cruelly damaged by construction - countless trees hacked, felled, and torn apart by machinery. Pools of cement littered over their murdered bodies. Branches, twigs, and dying leaves reached towards the sky, as if lamenting one final breath.
I had no doubt they would rise again, in vengeance.