Emergent The road less traveled is far more bumpy With less care put in to maintain In parts the road is overgrown In others it fades only to reappear again Where you least expect it The swamps were a surprise The trees a spindled, branches…

Why do we call it warfare when war is anything but fair? Why do we call it a funeral when it’s anything but fun? Why do we get to ask these questions? – Because words.

A Drifter and a traveler, were always solider of fortune, travelling on trail of time, sinking in their experiences, of burning and bruises, of marks on skin which weren’t enough to bleed, of fire which was still alive with air they breathe, seeking their way…