Alton Ellis Island
The rained out, soaking hot island, it breathes. Folding in at all angles when you turn your back, turn around (you're fine). Green greenness and trees turned inside out, direct vision became blackness. A universe in an island all of a sudden. Blackness forever, on and on. You can't see the the green anymore, but you can feel it. Perhaps the green is just so dark that it in fact appears as black?
The bass is a tube, recidivism is your shoes. The sweet, non-existent smell of cooking food begins to permeate. There is nothing we can say that will be final.
The bass is a tube, recidivism is your shoes. The sweet, non-existent smell of cooking food begins to permeate. There is nothing we can say that will be final.