...imagine another sort of tree. Maybe there aren’t natural trees anymore. Maybe there are a few left in special National Maximum Security Parks. Maybe the memory of a tree is so far gone from living memories that people try to recreate what they imagine they’ve lost using another sort of romantic imaginary, one of machinery, scavenged gears, gathered belts, hunted steam pipes, gleaned gauges, rusty metal and gobs and gobs of steam. In short, though our natural world may change, the human drive to connect with it and one another remains, it is second nature. Enter the Steampunk Tree House!
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