Genre Casting

Brief light, a Spring scent, inclinations in the bark, symbols carved into them, I suppose to an eye that wasn’t looking for it, that didn’t know it, it would appear as natural patterns, only us then that sees a story there. Memories of strange events, leaving creatures to the ground, somehow there’s some respect in burying a creature, even though we don’t question it, that’s what you do with dead things, you bury them, no one even thinks to check for alternatives. Maybe she smiles there anyway, with that possum, I think it was a possum, funny the way the details leave us whilst the acts remain.

God damn it some melodies just crush the heart, simple vibrations rendering people undone. The words don’t really matter anymore, it’s the sound of them that carries the most emotion.

I suppose the bit that I find annoying is how nature doesn’t care for our intellectualising, we pride ourselves on our culture, on our development and growth, we have systems in place that we value, that we live by, in amongst them one which we value is trade, more than that, a fair trade, with terms and conditions, but nature doesn’t work that way, it was never reasoning with us, it was never in talks, it’ll take in the same manner it gives, thoroughly impassive, it’s not even capable of being interested in what we want, so it doesn’t care what you’re offering in exchange, and that feels wrong, it’s not in our nature to put up with our opinions and desires being ignored, especially towards something so powerful and all governing… no, we want it to be reasonable, like us, but it never will be. There is nothing special in nature, it’s all common, it’s all equal. Sometimes that’s wonderful, other times it’s dreadful.