A listener told me not to “worry” about perceived injustice. “Build me a hill,” he commanded. Very dirty children were paid eleven dollars and sixty cents an hour. In a month the thing was done. It wasn’t a bad hill, just not particularly engaging looking. When one thought of climbing it one’s thought immediately turned elsewhere. After a while it became all but invisible, in the sense that nobody ever seemed to notice it. One could drive by or even over it without the idea of it ever grazing one’s fancy. But he called it a fine hill. It must have been all the labor that went into it, but even more that it was useless, as faceless a feature of the landscape as existed then in those parts. Oh, I don’t wonder. Does landscape really count? What is it for? What is it? Some of them has to have all the add-ons, plug-ins, to make of this a gracious house. I say it matters but it doesn’t matter all that much. There, I’ve finished. You can have your say now. For each separate house.