I have a reoccurring dream. I am flying towards earth on the rays of a fiery solar flare, falling towards land and sea in a stellar rain. The world stops, a magnetic shift drains the world of its newfound electric lifeblood. All is still in a muted panic of 8 billion silent prayers. I am invisible observer, no more seeable than the static air. Silence begets a frenzy: pallid faces darting around in a stupor, panic at the notion of impenetrable silence, a world without escape. A storm of light and fume is brewing, it is not a bad dream. What could halt this constant buzzing but the intervention of our solar deity? Gimp Mask Strawberry Palettes
picturing plastic peonies