That striped sky above in this quiet afternoon, give a weird look to the place.
It has similar lines to the pylons scattered on these lovely hills.
They cross and melt if they were an odd collage, dropping trails in the backlight followed by hungry eyes.
Psychotic thoughts about what it could be yesterday, with a subtle fear of waht tomorrow holds for all of us.
Untidy lives in a chaotic circle of energy, while the whole is spinning fast, so fast, a scary race indeed.
