What good is the cars, the shoes, the clothes if the grass no longer grows? If the river no longer flows? If the sky no longer snows? What good is it if the rose that used to grow between your toes no longer shows? That’s how the story goes and we write our own prose, but God only knows how much we bulldoze to make all of these clothes that we later dispose. We are played like dominoes and our thoughts are already imposed in this state of repose, like a box we’re enclosed. But I propose to expose with these words I compose that these logos and promos are not as important as the wind that blows or the sun that glows. Leap out of the shadows and praise the meadows full of primrose as if they were pharaohs.