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two foot of wrapped black hues not adept at trudging lightly reality bestows these mortal soles with tread and stereo tightly they walk these streets like city beats canvasing comment on curtailing pie holes nada, pot holes, no larder merriment: is that frisk or flailing? read more about vans en-route.
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distance keeps us separated parched lands and dry plains horizons bereft as fire swept across the arduous terrain cattle and house left in its wake as the flames engulf the land blackened scars, as memory charred an onslaught, no reprimand steel-caps compress the dirt beneath cooled embers now safe to... read more about post-fire.