They might think why we care too much about them. But this is more than them alone, this is about the world and where we belong. This vague politics worry me much, what might happen in the days of desperation. When crimson rivers run in our polluted cities, there are no modern day warrior to scrape the spirit from the hell's on earth. Why do we glorify the evil so much if not that we belong with them. Their hype and lies are illusions, it might be true but we will never see it. Just like the jungle's of Pangaea, these are lies to cloud the mind from the truth. Might we go back to the beginning, it too will be an illusion, there are nothing true anymore.
 The river, a medium sized stream, runs behind the house. It was not secluded, not anymore the heaven, hidden at the edges of the jungle. Some years back, it was, where the mornings are surrounded by fog, and afternoons blanketed by canaries flying in experimental flocks. When all seems almost like an imaginary tale, she said that the place really exists. And we walked, and searched for it, during days and night, we searched the whole land. Did she forget the way? Then we found, the place, the edge of the forest, but not the house. Then I knew, she was dreaming, and her hopes are not real. The world has been destroyed, and the children she was then could only dream of such a place. Long live the children, death to humanity. The future doesn't look good at all.
 I had a dream. I'm in the dream now. Let me wake up, in a thousand years, and tell you what it is.
[#] Let's observe what tomorrow tells, this is a running post.