this beautiful place not far from here
at the western edge of civilization, a river rolls below the highway. trees instead of skyscrapers, and birdsong and the mosquito hum of wet marsh and the stink of slow-moving water replicates the way the world used to be.
on the other side of this lonely road, the highway has already brought the hilltakers.
also, i think i see where the trolls res their heads, but none came looking for me.
ain’t it funny how the bottom is prettier than the top?