Pennsylvania’s potholes will swallow you into the depths of its throat. If you drive too low, the underbelly of your sedan will kiss Satan’s lips. Construction workers mend the wounds after approximately 4 million cars crumble its surface each winter. I find it no coincidence that nature destroys the same roads taken by colonials. How the xpressway erodes once per year, ready for its asphalt mask to be repaired. I wonder if the Earth is telling us she doesn’t want to wear any more facial coverings made of pollutants blackheading her brown skin. This battle of nature versus economy is a metaphor for the ongoing capitalist fight within the self. How our dreams are coated by the tar of expectations. How careers that are more obligations than hopes cement us into stagnance. Maybe when the snowy December and the rainy April destroys the roads of Southeastern Pennsylvania, it is a message for Philadelphia to be returned. To be called Lenapehoking once again.