futilitarian folly...

I'm the oldest of the three boys. He is the youngest.
I'm the one with the close-crop haircut, and habitual three-day-growth beard. He shaves his head.
The dermatological ecosystem resists deforestation. A mantle of cilial vines forms a canopy budding from beneath his t-shirt.
Perhaps, they seek to bask in the warm glow. Perhaps, they are mercenary strands determined to recolonize the artificial landscape at the summit.
Unconcerned, he calmly irrigates.