
WORK
1 year ago
Pause from the work.
And turn to the hill.
The Master stands with two clenched fists.
In his left a bottle, to harvest the idle essence.
In his right a shotgun, to guarantee the next year's crop.
His price is power.
Mine is protection.
I return to work.
And pulverize.
The last remaining tree.
And turn to the hill.
The Master stands with two clenched fists.
In his left a bottle, to harvest the idle essence.
In his right a shotgun, to guarantee the next year's crop.
His price is power.
Mine is protection.
I return to work.
And pulverize.
The last remaining tree.
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