As I drove through the forests of Washington I was
greeted by the familiar faces of Arco, McDonalds, and Chilis. Oregon was lined
with Safeways; Idaho shook my hand with a giant Chobani factory, and even in
the deserts of Nevada, there stood good ‘ole Texaco.

What I didn’t expect, however, was to know you. I’ve never stepped foot upon your contours, nor tasted your red rock, but I knew you. You, whose water flows from the Rockies, and whose life is made for profit.

I knew you because you had all the general fixings of home. Winco, Walmart, Target, Ross, TJ Maxx, Century Link, and Starbucks. I can drive down the street to Cost Plus World Market and Michael’s craft store. I know where to get what I want, and your resources are no less scarce than my dear, sweet home.

Just what is our relationship to capitalism and global currency?
How can I escape its forces and be free to be a me
unmediated by profits and private interests?
I thought that I would come to know a new world
where I would have to navigate new systems and a new structure. But, no, of
course not. Not in Arizona. Not in the whole of the US.

And while capitalism homogenizes our lands and peoples,
it cannot account for the elation one feels when they become conscious of their
own confines.
There is a history, a context, a people, a fight, a
heart—we just cannot become too familiar or else we risk missing it.
-LB Travellin
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