Two Landscapes Speak

From Heart of Darkness

The great wall of vegetation, an exuberant and entangled mass of trunks, branches, leaves, boughs, festoons, motionless in the moonlight, was like a rioting invasion of soundless life, a rolling wave of plants, piled up, crested, ready to topple over the creek, to sweep every little man of us out of his little existence.

It is interesting to juxtapose this quote, which obviously describes a distinctly un-urban landscape, with the onslaught of things that modern urban life fills itself with. Things pile up, forcing themselves into every conceivable space, taking up all available terrain, just as tree limbs, vines, and creepers take over the jungle's open spaces. Heart of Darkness can surprisingly tell us something of our own modern experience: in the scramble to bask in the sun's rays, the lifeblood for the greenery of our planet, the world becomes shrouded in darkness by the sheer massiveness of the takeover; so too with urban space and the human scramble for real estate and useable space -- the world can be shadowed by buildings or consumed by "beautification" and "gentrification," leaving the few remaining spaces in a sort of darkness, but in its modern, noisily apparent form.