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Necropolis Gully

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  Necropolis Gully Ancient Fertility  The only sound in the deep quiet of the crevice was the crunch of my boots on the debris-strewn ground. Towering stone walls, draped in vibrant green moss , rose on either side, making me feel like an intruder in a forgotten tomb . My matte-black suit , a product of a future this place could never have imagined, felt profane against the ancient rock . Then I saw it: a weathered, silent figure standing in the path. It was a statue of a woman , carved from the same stone as the gully but shaped with clear intent. Moss crept up its base and clung to its form like a second skin. This impossible artifact, an architectural anomaly in this raw, natural fissure , stopped me. My steady, determined posture belied the storm of questions raging in my mind. The statue stared forward with blank, unseeing eyes, a silent witness to a history I had just stumbled into. My mission was to find my crew, but this place, this silent, stone woman , was a new, un...

Godin Connectedness

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Godin Connectedness  We argued with the vengeance from poorly informed memory. Straight from the loss to blame. For whatever reason it perpetuated justification. Of construeded loss,  from the need to self victimise. To the need of claiming nothing in particular. It was the battle to ingrain and embellish memory. In so, we tore each other apart and to feed individual right. Our eternal want to be known as right. The want for immediate anger to surface, rant and to glorify our past glories of being wronged. And then we rested exhausted.