Not a breath to be had, nor a tremor to be felt. In the stillness, I am awed. Forcefully deconstructing nature to meet my desires. Only I m sickened by my own automation . Nose high savages is all we are.
Destruction reigns over fertility.
Artificial lushness and harsh juxtaposition. Caught midway between gleaming, streamlined speed and the tiniest, untouched leaf. Surrounded by grotesque phallic obstructions of perverted purity. Reality has been twisted into a superficial whore, to be plundered for all the fleeting and meaningless riches in the world.