Mud binds the poison Casa Torres, Willow coppice is visually attractive, as palm trees sway in the swirling precipitation of the storm

The circle of life rotates and cultivates a combine harvester and the speed of light, time stops

Walls of flint separate farmers lands, I am the blunderbuss for which you have been waiting and yearning for, now move and glide amongst the rubble and furniture

Ginkgo is a law onto itself a tour de force if you will, diammatrically entwined, this is the stamp of approval, the hammer on the nail, this is the truth

Dig for victory, digging holes chopping down Sycamore trees is labor intensive, come with me to the end of time

I’m on the edge of the earth, on top of the tallest peak, down to the depths of the deepest trench, in splendid isolation. But theres just no accounting for the human factor