The air is crisp in the city and knows that change of season. Mastodons migrated north dancers ducks crossing to the south, while the updrafts sling unabated. Humans are no more, no matter how loud they could scream, as they open their mouths wide open, housing insects taste sweet, jackals guarding the bar, gazelles sleep protected from the monsoon in the highway bridge in disuse time two thousands of years and all of the animals walk upright, setting fires with hooves and claws, taking advantage of a nature inherited by those who called civilization. The glass and concrete will be elements of the periodic table, in a million years, when the records will not be left track.
duplexes embedded in the bauxite mines, where platypus sentient seeking raw materials for the subterranean city, will be regarded with indifference. Lost techniques, there are other, when the queue will become the most important body and hind legs serve to march, to massacre the front.
Flocks scattered in the wooded plains receive news from the ancient city \u200b\u200bthrough coded messages, according to new languages \u200b\u200bintra-species, while the herds rivals send spies to learn the secrets of transhumance: the campaign abandoned and derelict, the people go into the plot beastly road, following the roads, breaking through the toll booths, providing water spontaneous births asphalt lakes neglect; enter careless layers suburban and then urban accompanied by a concert of nails on the ground and rubbed on the floor, castanets as a party.
And if they are wars and genocide, no one will be there to tell or at least no one will listen and even if someone will not listen to his memory. Until again it will not be introduced in writing and with it the beginning of a new disaster and the gods are anthropomorphic and explain any unknown event, but will not explain its absence, until then bleats and roars and snarls are the songs of unattainable beauty and convince the savage souls propagation of ignorance.
Eventually you wake up in a posture of calligraphy and are forced to scratch my Sehnsucht you fell asleep under his thighs. Good morning.
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