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Open your eyes.
A breeze picks up.
You hug yourself tight.
The trees sway.
Leaves break free from their grip.
Swirling gracefully through the air.
Eventually floating to the ground in sweet surrender.
Your sight loses focus.
The scene becoming a no longer detailed blur of colours.
A harmonious blend of red, orange, and yellow.
The air is crisp.
The scent of spice lingers.
You can hint the crackling of fire in the distance.
It's that feeling.
You bask in the moment.
Autumn has arrived.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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