The Earth is a hungry place. Just look at limestone; you can see it’s fish dinners scattered about. You’ll find gnawed bones. Even the salad course.

It’s hard to believe it’s 4.5 billion years old when it eats like a toddler.

And if you look closer at the sediment you can see the countless sunsets and rises it’s consumed. Day after day, devoured by stone, layer after layer, down into it’s belly.

It makes me wonder of our own inevitable consumption, digestion, and excretion. Will Earth look like Mars one day? No sign of life, no sign of us, just the red oxide of iron and the signs of dried river beds, like sloppy spilled drinks at a dinner party.

Water rings for the cosmos.

Maybe Earth will look more like my grandmother’s cracked and yellowing Tupperware? Fully plasticized and sealed for posterity yet to be known. Or is it already a hungry ghost, floating in the vastness of space, always searching for it next meal? It may be you, you may be me. It just might be our dreams it’s after.