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It was more than political loyalty; it was cultish fervor,
In a place like South Florida, such heart-bound faith in the justice system could best be described as quaint.
“Don’t you get it? It doesn’t fucking matter whether he’s right or not. That’s the scary part.”
It was rampaging imbecility, and possibly unstoppable.
The Everglades would never be the lush unbroken river it once was; the shallows of Florida Bay would never be as pure and sparkling with fish; the bleached dying reefs of the Keys would never bloom fully back to life. Being overrun and exploited was the historical fate of places so rare and beautiful.
Teddy Roosevelt himself couldn’t turn the tide if he came back from the dead. All the treasured wilderness that had been sacrificed at the altar of growth was gone for all time. More disappeared every day; nothing ever changed except the speed of destruction, and only because there were fewer pristine pieces to sell off, carve up and pave.
