Ripping off the sanctity of trees

    How many times have we not heard the "I have to cut that tree down because its roots are going to ruin my house?"  In this manner, the implied image of danger over the solidity of the house, that notion of the stable household, is used as a pretext to rip out the life of entity as if it were a nuisance.  Through these countless events, thousands of trees are lost every year and, in the process, the scenery that we believed would never vanish.  That sweet and shaded trail, so pleasant and tranquile with its singing birds, vanishes upon becoming a hot prison of cement and concrete slabs.  But, in truth, what is the solid and what is the liquid in the phenomenon?  Concrete gives the appearance of solidity when it dries, but we all-too-quickly forget its liquid and changing state prior to pouring it on the ground.  A tree, who cannot be blamed for where it was born and whom cannot go anywhere else, more often than not had been a longer time in the place that its very owners.  Through this process of change--slow, disperse, but consistent--the abode of memories is lost.   Children, the new generations, play in new places although being in the same locale, forming dry and hard images of what constitutes nature.  Gradually, from generation to generation, our notion of what constitutes our home, in the broadest sense of the word, is transformed.