if you like it Icy cold and wet, come on over to België, you'll find plenty of chilly environments. the days are shorter the light is gone, the temps make even the thickest wool wearing sheep think about refuge. swaying trees and Blue high sky, the whisper of the willow just near by, the creaking of some and the crackle of others.
Cold winds a blowin, sing songs a howlin. The weather is raw the weather is king. Shorter days knocking at the door. remembrances of yesteryear, the good old days, realizing they are permanently gone and that it will never be the same state again. Its a hard world to swallow sometimes, and especially as the time progresses and with that the expectations of adaption and evolution are ever present.. But it's easier to reflect than pro actively predict.! I am faced with the harsh reality that the place in the world that I am from , the magical all possible place that I come from is vanishing, slipping away and turning into a place of sour milk and no longer that rich golden land of milk and honey...... no dwelling but really dwelling. that is the state I sit in. the longing and desperation of knowing exactly how things would turn out. its gone its gone so gone gone gone... not hopeless just placeless spaceless danceless joyless empty outta wack adaptive acceptance
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