Of the greatest spinning, at dawns formable bowtie hour in materials soft and sour comes the velocity of understanding among vapor rebellions- scrimmaging clouds, a solemn weap within, inside wanting to hide from gravity stricken rain take cover in the trees, take cover in the leaves. A roof over your water boarded head, and witness all electric feelings vanish from clay stricken pale skin. the ones that offer no sense and hence, the adventure it is not the same. as beams forged from mosquito hammers and nails: the construct, sweaty prison arisen to catch the artful tears of all the games above.