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I have lived in the same town for eighteen years, spent my entire life confined behind a veil of obscurity intentionally placed. Most of you don't know where this is, or wouldn't even know if I told you, and that is something unsettling to me, as it houses the second largest oil refinery in the world, and the largest in the United States. My town, my home, is the throne where the black heart of America sits to pump oil through its concrete veins.
This metal monster rules over my town, whether directly or by extension, and it is one of unnerving, suspicious practices and secrecy. Every day, with no interruption, it billows tons (literally) upon tons of pollution, and that is just what we see. At night, or when cloudy, it releases far more. So much more that it will rise high into the atmosphere, still retain composition, and be carried away by the wind.  Occasionally, you can not tell what are clouds and what is noxious smoke fuming from the refinery's gaping maw.
And this happens every single day.
And its citizens? They don't care. Hell, they hardly even notice anymore.
But it owns our schools.
It owns our parks.
It owns our streets.
It owns our neighborhoods.
It owns our very lives.
On paper, the city may, but the funds for all of these are directly handed to it by the claws of the smoggy behemoth. It is the man behind the veil, the puppet master.
So, isn't that strange that, despite its significance in our economy, it goes freely unnoticed?
Almost as if it doesn't want to be seen.


Home, sweet Home.


BFP2 Uploaded 01/05/2012
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