Untended vineyards scrabbling at defeated fences. Obscene and monstrous hulks of abandoned vehicular industry. Slowly swallowed by an infinity of redwoods. Sunshards battered into fragments and strewn across a dilapidated highway. The remains of a grocery store, shelves stripped down to dust. The only thing intact is irony, and the plastic protective register pane. The beckoning of the sea through the whispering limbs of federal forests. Between the hairpin turns and endless switchbacks, there's an escalator to heaven. Looking out onto the universe, made of foam-flecked cerulean as far as the eyes can see in any direction. Weaving clouds into a burial shroud for one. A funeral at sea, with only the salted winds as witness.
10:41 p.m. - 2020-08-05
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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