Free Standing V-feeders, Petty

E s difficult to find the calm when the day has been an emotion or DRYLAND from morning nothing has had more weight than the air or the rigidity of statues. It's hard not to surrender to meekness and will donate to the blackness of the time. It is difficult, I know, not go back on the misfortune of life and not blame the unrest on this nature so contrary who we are. Because nature is a circularity that begins and ends at the same point. In it, the metamorphosis is possible, since its inception is its conclusion. Not so with what man muses, as we have in mind that the days can not be discounted otherwise lived alone in the memory it escape. And we know the angles of memory. Perhaps that is why

one dares to build some notes on white paper, as white as the blood of dormant silence. Despite this hindrance, one dares to write in the newspaper in search of who knows what time, what colorful rumor may be revealed. For one reveals the reality of their hiding places until it is polished and haggard. So leave it as a vanishing point that spread of the days, hours, noon in the middle of a park. We know nothing of the first syllable and even less of the latter, but we recognize their differences. What happens in the meridian: ourselves.

Our will is finite because we know the final coda. Perhaps only by recognizing some of the circularity, damp soil that will spray fields when we will be more human. Too human. open Library of Apollodorus, perhaps the first book of miscellaneous history. A book in which the greatest puzzle is the identity of its author. An author transparent retracted what collection. Start reading through the sieve of the imagination and the patch.

remains the notebook closed and everything is illusory. Not a hunch to open it, it does not admit the evidence or the momentum without burning in the distance, but within. The notebook closed and a cloister old-looking for birds crossing its columns. Only that, the flight is only that, the passing of a tree branch, a temporary resting place of balance. Only part of creating harmony.