a journyey through the qua landscape, a set on Flickr.
the winter solistice is in a day or so....sun licks a landscape barren in its nakedness...down by the river I drank cheapies and listened to river flow...I found it's murmur to be very loving...the pbrs drowned the bad thoghts out and helped my mind to focus on the beauty...being still in the american landscape is a revolutonary act in of itself...the people who tore downthe woods have never been down here...I see their desctruction of the hill and the wetlands as a metaphor for the horror of their culture...I drink the pbrs as to not be hung up on it...
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