Right in the middle of the journey through the passages or almost
- and not a manner of speaking -
of dark wood,
I find myself listening to the minstrels
night to watch surrounded
by old men with an open mouth that look like little man
Munch.
And then there are the rows of
blind toothless homeless
and future widows and orphans of tomorrow. This is
descent
little hope in that ascent
violates nature's law and common sense.
