drane2 luck is green like some of my dreams of post_apocalyptic childhood, vast expanses of concrete sculpted into incomprehensible shapes, stretching, more or less, past the horizon.. thousands of bunkers, massive amphitheaters, sculpted crossways going up up high, semispherical enclaves a hundred meters tall and two hundred across, all empty, deserted, abandoned... forgotten. where the inhabitants went, is anyones guess. they could have died three thousand years before, burned black and bleached white, blown away on the wind.. leaving only footprints and cement metaphors behind. and now i'm standing here alone, awe and melancholy, wind_wind blowing from behind, chasing itself into oblivion 011208 what's it to you? who go blather from