Exchanging words with those mentally stuck in their teenage years;
in a time that no longer exists.

It is treacherous.

Walking around a reserve; a prosperous suburban area, a protected workshop, where the apple blossom smells close to wild strawberries and early summer meadows under the evening's trailing light. Dazed, June gropes for her stronghold.

*

Finding new wild strawberry spots while I let the thorns harden again.

Recognizing the existence of worthlessness: Country life and suburbia in an unsightly mix.

Watching the search for conflict and all incorrect morality...


The imagined security here qualifies as passive aggression, hidden depression, and an undisguised idiocy. Nothing new.

The worthless can never build a value.



Do you have difficulty believing in obvious things?