Green Hill, What Izzat?!

Green Hill, what is that? A pile of money? Not here, no! An optimistic look at Purgatory? Why not. It sounds better than Route 47. Green Hill passes three churches as well as the green commons of Washington, before bisecting the Gunnery campus, after which it waves off Route 109 to Roxbury and zips past the Mayflower's driveway... if you're coming from the Depot. But what is this? Who needs directions in writing anymore? Besides, we all know very well where we are going.

It seems to me that it was out of this demented life-preserving certitude that this blog spontaneously emerged. Green hill must be a reference to the heaps of green coffee beans lying around the Zero Prophet roastery, waiting for their moment, waiting perhaps to be pulverized and taken off to McCutcheon. These beans have already undergone quite an extensive translation, having been cultivated, harvested, milled, transported multiple times... Finally, the disparate elements, the stray shots & highlanders & journals in english arabic hindi korean cantonese spanish german italian hungarian... all are meant to circulate and meet here, in a Zocalo of the imagination.