Across the back road from where I work was an empty field, filled not with crops but with grass and wild flowers. At a corner there were some trees and a shed with a rusty tin roof and crumbly wooden walls. During lunch breaks I liked to walk over for my eyes to embrace the green open space and feel a breeze caressing my face.
Then one day I saw a couple of bulldozers working in the field. I guess, just like the rest of us, fields also have to die sometime.