Walkabout

Someone once said that, when coming to a fork in the road, we should always take the path less travelled. Failing to note, of course, that both paths were laid out for a reason, and that treading one or the other will still result in you becoming a pawn in someone else's scheme. Two trails are apparent, but like occams razor states, the space inbetween can be divided up into an infinite number of paths, without ever rendering nothing.



Dark skies and luminous green fields. There is no place in reality for this.



To spite the lightning that smote it, the tree grew crooked and menacing, a parodic visage of that which destroyed it.



And after it all, I found myself in a nonsensical land, where the weeds grew as tall as trees, and the ducks talked, and the riverbank eroded the river.

And then, when I thought I was done, the sun came out, and man was it hot. Very uncomfortable. I should've worn shorts.