Laminated within the oceans human echo, as newborn stars explode on car bonnets and vast microlandscapes pass under foot. Salt collects and drips slowly from the brush, the atmosphere thickens bearing down hard, there’s a stagnancy within this beauty. Everything in sight is languidly dancing, seeds and insects pirouette in slow motion in the golden hue of childhood nostalgia. Lonely lost souls drifts on the breeze, coasting through the busiest of streets, searching for a welcoming ear to listen. A blue haze spirals up and around the air, as the resplendent sun trips the light fantastic, making this pungent downfall look ethereal. The army of vexation flounders on the grass, as we lay in this field surrounded by deities, nothing can trouble us in the meadow of hiatus.