The sky is an artistic graveyard.
Many a hero and many a fool have come to their fate in its wave-driven clutches.
The number of syllables required to storybook danger is as dense as ozone.
The orange layer—a warning sign, posted by the forebearers of fun, who were categorically undone by the very forces they worshipped.
Birds no better than to fly at such temperamental altitudes.
But the dream will die if we don't try.
And so we hoist our ambition like a kite, hoping to stay aloft long enough to discover something more about ourselves.
Apr 11, 2022
Apr 11, 2022 at 1:01 PM UTC
The sky is an artistic graveyard.
Many a hero and many a fool have come to their fate in its wave-driven clutches.
The number of syllables required to storybook danger is as dense as ozone.
The orange layer—a warning sign, posted by the forebearers of fun, who were categorically undone by the very forces they worshipped.
Birds no better than to fly at such temperamental altitudes.
But the dream will die if we don't try.
And so we hoist our ambition like a kite, hoping to stay aloft long enough to discover something more about ourselves.
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