The air is cold, wet and still. The heat rose from the land as Death rode through the clouds on her pale horse named Leo. Osika marked the path. Amber, citron, and burgundy leaves plastered to the ground and others fresh dead, their spirts wanting to see the space they gandered as they lived attached to their limb with which they grew upon took to the air as if given to flee.Their background a A desire to hit the ground and fly was not a dream for all.
…
To keep the peace some other said to an individual “make no sound an other would disagree” how would you know what sound it could be that another would disagree? Well alas in the land of correct sound it was up to the hearer to decide if they would like the sound coming from an individual and what an odd world for the individual to live where how could you know the yeah or the nay?
Be still and listen
One day I will tell you a story
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