Such a gentle, almost undetectable rain. Birds busy with their business. Clouds sagging down to the earth, yet just out of reach. Quiet is a state so rare, even in the middle of nowhere something still hums. Lines and connections and metal rods like steel trees of the future keep us impossibly in touch, albeit indifferently, aloofly. Solitude at odds against the wave of the world, washing all things together to run, drain, into one giant cesspool of information. Nature finding some way to defeat it, impressively resilient, more so than us humans. Even with two hands and a brain we are at a loss of how to cease this Earth’s genocide. Some of us twitch in silence, remembering the stolen days of simplicity, when love was obvious and joy was a given. Now we scramble for a moment to do nothing more than listen to all that falls from the sky.
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