I stared at a picture drawn of me today. It was drawn two years ago. It's a drawing of me reading a book. Looking at it I couldn't help but wonder who that was. Who are you stranger and what is your name? Whose that dreamer with the fear in his eyes and the intelligence of a thousand gods behind him? Why so glum? You donâ??t even know what youâ??ve got yourself into, do you? Donâ??t worry stranger, itâ??ll get better. Youâ??re in for one long strange trip my friend. Two years have gone by since that drawing. Could have easily been ten. No real difference. Ten years, twenty years, it feels the same. Has it really only been two years? This shift is a strange one. Hold on there stranger, we're in for one wild ride.
Dream of the iris Reviewed by Dream of the iris on . Our prison â??If you don't know what you are on all levels, and have no clue what you are standing up for or against, then sit down. Does the farmer care if the cattle get together and moo at him in a group, shouting that the pen is theirs and not his, and that he doesn't own them? Who is justified and what the hell are the cattle thinking? Do they really want to stand up and claim the pen of their imprisonment and holding until demise as theirs? Do you want to fight to keep the walls that contain you? Is Rating: 5