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Liam Salmon was a third-year student in secondary education at the University of Alberta when he wrote this essay.
Let me paint you a picture.
There's a field with hills rolling up and down and up and down. It extends forever and ever, into the distance. No end, no beginning. This field is a pelt of green. A uniform and solid carpet of grass that covers everything. There are no gaps. And there is nothing else but this grass. It is all the field has ever known-for you see, in this field there are no rocks, there are no trees, there are no flowers, there are no squirrels, there are no mice, there is no river, no pond, no lake, there is nothing else. Just grass.
And each tiny blade of grass is the same height. There is no deviation. Each tiny blade of grass is cut off at a suitable length, like...