Office partitions grow like gravestones across hillsides where grass still tries. Trees stand witness between filing cabinets and fog that tastes of fluorescent burn. The cubicles extend into toxic mist, corporate geography colonizing wilderness, or wilderness reclaiming the grid. Impossible to say which is consuming which. "The fog teaches what the office never could: all structures are temporary, all boundaries dissolve." Wear the suit. The air here remembers every deadline, every meeting that could have been an email. The contamination zone is endless.