The fiddle of the early settlers shrouds societal expectations with the warmth of impenetrable solidarity. So, buy into the fields of the farms, as the wheat sways in the fields of the mid-west.
Rock your chair on the porch of possibility and consider the howling winds of northern loneliness.
I have to ask: To what depth are your intercourses?
As the saloon echoes with screams of debauchery, the Sheriff flaunts his badge of moral rectitude. “Do not speak to me!” he said. “You are deserving of death!”

Look before you leap, because there is a chasm of fashionable awareness which is subject to the discriminations of the wise.
The cactus is a survivor in the desert of Arizona. But I will follow you if you dare to escape. Tadpoles will truly fertilise the obscurity of fallopian wells. Rise up and walk. Come on…break away from the chain-gang.

Venturing across the threshold of blatancy - Can you navigate your way through the complexity of this intoxicating labyrinth?
Political smiles greet the masses with plausible uncertainties. Like parasols and blue skies? Or cinders and ashes?
Waterfalls continue to flow and bumblebees pollinate great plantations. It’s coming to a close. The curtains of finality are hastily swishing together in this last triumphant finale. Progress is the name of the game. It’s a picture of lost innocence – a catholic calamity involving haunting silhouettes of the great and mighty perimeter. What do you think? Death warmed up? Give a great round of applause for Vanity Fair.

Delve into the void where ecstasy spirals her sensuality into a cosmological inertia. Do you know what it is like to be suspended in catatonic amazement? If not, then trust the keeper of the cast-iron gate, because I know the power of your appetites. Ancient battles may be considered to be trivialised injustices in the age of self-aggrandisement. But justice will prevail, whilst the indelible character of history casts her shadow of memorable resilience, where Jacobean ghosts will never rest.

The altar of exactitude is as tedious as cooking a turkey by the flame of a matchstick.
Listen to the whispering spirits of the forest, as they echo in a beautifully haunting perpetuity.
Do you feel the chants of the ceremony as they flicker against your skin and penetrate your apprehensive soul?
Symbolic feasts abound in the turrets of the ancient and crenellated towers of gothic castles where gargoyles reign in masonry brilliance.
That which is assumed to be forgotten by contemporary presumption remains to be fully present, despite contemporary dismissals.

What is fun, in its perceived definition? I can only imagine bountiful beauty as I contemplate such psychological explorations. It takes me to places where there are no limits, and where that which is deemed to fit inside the barb-wired fences of acceptability do not prevail. Let us retire to this intimate beach of oneness in a state of being which transcends time.

I miss the fields of Andalucía, where the Sierra Nevada can be seen in the East from Costa Del Sol perimeters; and community is something which far surpasses the façade of being in the same room. Sliced onions in the abode of La Villa Rosetta will permeate the Milky Way on Spanish rooftops, as herds of goats amble along mountain roads. But let us forever remember that chorizo is beautiful, as she proudly displays her scent against the turrets of Algeciras. I love a fiesta, because familial chords remain uncut.