• In the depth of satisfaction develops a fraction, leaking the unmitigated self-replication of desire. Of course there is the release of wings left without a smudge, but where can one be without feeling a budge? What do you know if left out after initial experience? Tune-out, remix, master the mixture. Ornament glimmers yearly for the sentiment. A ritual to grow increasingly tiresome of, or, what more of the contained hope for, their life is just a box too small for them. Is country life the sickening strike? A blow against other dreamt dimensions, possible in a plausable sense. When not bound to the trampled mess bordered by restraining fence. Truly dead for being absolutely rural.

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