Where Pop might have been channeling the Minotaur for the timeless secrets of existence, Ma was reading tea-leaves of a planet preparing for a nose-dive into the fathomless pit of greed within which we are only beginning to make out the dim outline of g_dless titans feasting on the human spirit; spitting carcasses of once teeming human cultures that are now reduced to mewing wraiths with chains and whistles and bells - shadows so compelling that the sirens of Greek legend luring entire fleets to their doom would be but faint echoes and their destruction casual. Ma was driven, or pulled her own bootstraps out of crusty footpaths to and from the cold spring for perishable foodstuff as a child of the Nevada desert, so any potential danger for cavorting with abundance was no danger at all.
Posted on: Sat, 22 Mar 2014 18:32:29 +0000