Palaces of the dead crumbling under the forces of Mother Nature until their names have fallen off their mausoleums, white paint turned...

Coming to the South I wonder, where did all the stories go? Like a giant library the marsh mud holds legends of old times, the trees...

to the grammar police with there cues and peas holding onto the past the world moves to fast but you cant stop change or cultural...

When the hazy purple dusk turns black, the shape of dunes on the horizon melts away into the Milky Way which stares at us with ancient...