
Dusk on the front porch of an old Cracker-style house just outside the village center. The air smells of orange blossoms and distant rain. Elias, 78, sits in a wooden rocker, a faded Indiantown Tigers cap on his knee. Maya, early 30s, sits on the steps with a copy of the draft 2050 Comprehensive Plan open on her lap. The document has red strike-through and handwritten notes in the margins.

One thought on “THE POWER OF WORDS IN THE COMP PLAN ARE KILLING THE VILLAGE”