Ivy climbs the northern wall of the edifice, twisting around corporate tresses. It reaches skyward to thwart the wood, to climb and leap and grasp hold of the walls, to grow on and into mortar and tear the building down, brick by crumbling brick. The suits behind the scenes say they are stewards of the environment, but Mother Nature has asked for no such thing. As long as there are SUVs and CDs, consumers and consumption, the vines will keep climbing.

Two vultures look on from atop parking lot lights, cold winds ruffling their feathers.