There Was A Little Toolshed Where He Made Us Suffer

by Harvest Home

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You know how the air gets in the hottest days of summer. On the cemetery grass time slows almost to a stop. No sound for hours but the incessant buzzing of the cicada. Then an airplane makes a slow flanging growl as it slides across the sky. Centuries pass, then you turn to me and say "Sometimes I think the best music happens when no one is making it." and in that instant the sun supernovas, rippling radiation through the universe. The boundaries between music and non-music blur. Nanoseconds of sound explode into infinite detail. Generations give birth to new generations and fall to the relentless flow of time. Patterns emerge mutate and vanish. Cells divide, conversations veer off, forming new conversations and ideas are born. Cities rise and fall. Rivers branch and find the sea, form canyons. Cliffs and beaches erode. I am again an embryo in my mother's womb.

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released June 1, 2013

Thanks John Morra for the awesome artwork!

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