Saturday, March 19, 2005

The setting:

Ready to invade someone, anyone, the blitzkrieg blunderers stake their spot like thirteen year old rowdies with no bigger kids anywhere to be seen.

Old battlescarred players shift around purposefully. Eyes meet, agreements are proposed (some quietly made.)

Rumblings can be heard from deep in the very ground. Storms blow fitfully, dissipate, blow again. Rumours in the wind seem to imply that some animals are considering new migratory paths. Many stop to mourn those who cannot change theirs, and may well be doomed.

We, the persistently knowing faithful reach out to one another. We are scattered but unbowed. Though tired and poor, yet we are resourceful and determined.

Our persistent clarity elicits great huffing and puffing diversions from the Wurlitzer's mighty lackeys.


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