change

We could go on forever about how things changed. Quarks composed symphonies and atoms moulded matter into art. The sky raged on with orange clouds and purple space between them. Grass grew in time-lapse, jerky speed. Buildings were dwarfed by Hollywood bushes (symbols of death that surrounded the Georgia guide stones, scaring birds into silence). I could not stand it, I just couldn’t stand it. Please-let it end, please? It didn’t. The earth split open like a decaying fruit. We are the mould, festering on its surface. We are the decay. Smelling ripe and falling apart over time.