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  • There is a useful thing to the flat solid gold and green corn feilds of Iowa. And not just for making money. Those famous feilds that are so straight and orderly and perfect, they just don't seem to be real. It might feel like wherever you run, you can never get to the edge of it all.

    And that's partially true.

    But just before harvest time, out there, is the perfect time to...disappear. Really. In the heartlands of America, the roads stretch to the horizen in unbroken lines; and exactly every mile, every road is intersected with another perfectly straight road, creating a square mile of land inside every four intersections. Farmland, that is. There about a million of these little squares, each with a couple of farming families. All together, they are one of the most important agricultural regions in the world. This flat, endless land changes, though. A repetitive change with the seasons, and farmers that come and go. In the sping, the land and sky are perfectly balanced with each other on an invisible axis, the world is empty.

    But in late summer, almost everything is completely changed. The ground has risen nine feet high, well, the corn has. Giant beings that block the sky out of the picture and ripple in the wind like a huge gold-and-green sea. A shady forest of trees topped with brilliant gold tassels exists under the full-grown stalks, and you are lost among the walls of corn.
    The stalks get so incredibly high that a law was placed to cut dawn forty feet or so of corn at every intersection just so people could see around the curve for other cars.

    Now i'll get to the point. For the families that own those magnificent land plots of corn, so huge in the U.S. Diet, it's not like they are in the middle of nowhere, stuck in the perfect squares of crops in the place people fly over to get to somewhere else. They love that huge Iowa sky and everything under it. The place in the middle of the country is also the place in the middle of their chests. Things can go wrong in housholds and states, and when they do for the farming families of that region, there is always a place to run: The corn. The heartlands are anything but empty. When times get unbearable, the children, anyone, can turn anywhere and disappear into the never ending corn stalks. They can lose themselves and find peace among the towering walls of gold and green.
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