Evening takes its time. An hour or two of dusk passes, and it is finally dark. I can no longer see the motes of dust drifting through the open window. It's still coming in, but I can't see it. Most of it is pollen, I'm sure. It has settled on the keyboard, so that only my most frequently used keys are free of it. If I leave any key untouched for more than a few minutes, it will become covered in little flecks. I can almost feel it burrowing into the skin of my fingertips. I sneeze frequently. I love the trees. Why do the trees hate me? True, my room is full of tree cadavers in the form of books and magazines and newspapers, but is that any reason for the arboreal world to attack me? Well... now that I think of it.... OK, maybe I'm being punished for my literacy. This is a good reason for publishers to start using paper made of hemp. It would probably outlast wood pulp paper, anyway. Save me from the enraged trees! Legalize hemp paper!