Everywhere I look these days there are mushrooms: yellow and white and brown and red, squat and gangly, glistening and dusty—a hundred varieties, and almost none can I identify. There is so much unknown in the world. It is easy to think that if we could only name things, we would know them… know their properties, their inner secrets, their inherent purpose, whether healthful or harmful to humans. As if by naming everything else we would know our own place in the world.
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