dan wilson on sun 16 mar 97
We all whispered it in each others ears and nodded in agreement... passed
it along. As if it were some kind of sacred invocation passed down from the
mountain tops shrouded in mist. And we followed that path, sometimes
blindly, till we reached the cutting edge. Some began to waver as fear and
uncertanty overcame them - caused them to falter - but we moved on...
closer to the fire. And the smell of burning branches filled us and caused
us to have visions and fits of coughing and those at the front were
blinded, more or less... at the place where earth becomes water.
Dan Wilson
dan wilson on wed 19 mar 97
A few of us closed our eyes or covered our faces with our hands hoping for
salvation, but we kept moving in that direction even as those before us
disappeared or went mad and began speaken om tongs. This was durring the
war years when art was craft and craft was art and the two pillars fell...
Dan Wilson
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