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The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

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  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Pine Creek Storm Front Torn black filaments of wind and shadow seemed to claw straight out of the atmosphere, dripping down like hot tar, twisting through the spindly ironwo...
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Celeste Innocent Bystanders

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What you think has been accepted
Unprecedented protection from devastation and pestilence

What you don't know
Is that the wave is in motion
Is that time is running out

What you need to do
Pullover, change direction and get out of here

Talk about the time to panic
The objective has been initiated
All of the mechanisms are in place
Weapons are drawn

The world is sick
From a sickness that is mutating and fastly evolving

Your presence is a hindrance
You are observing the crime but taking no action

Our leaders have diffused their responsibility
The more who standby to witness the less likely any response

The real victim is you, you the one many who will not be seen as the operation executes





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