There is a rock on the side of the road, deep in the Pinelands. Geologically, it does not belong there. There aren’t any big rock formations anywhere nearby. It’s sandy. It’s the coastal plain. No outcrops, no boulders. No one really knows where it came from. Some think it fell off a truck. Maybe it grew there.

People like to paint it. I first saw it over 20-30 years ago. It was gold. The next time I saw it a few years later it was a different color. It never moves. Over the years it’s taken on many layers of paint, mysteriously changing color and pattern. It become a landmark, a destination to visit and maybe a chance to modify and exert one’s own expression.

Then it became a RWB shrine about a half decade ago and creative expression ceased. It took on a nationalistic personna. One dares not tread and spill colored latex (other than RWB) on these grounds.

The Painted Rock

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