Even the sweetest rays of sun can't manage to get a vine to grow out of the ground; even the most lovely, gentle rains haven't coaxed a sprout out of this soil.
Don't curse the land!!
... And don't wait forever for it to yield something, anything. Because it won't give back but weeds, no matter how determinedly you tend to it.
Pack the lean-to and the plow and find greener hills on which to sow things worth feeling.
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All the lovers are addicts, looking for a fix for their loneliness. All the boys and girl are addicts, searching for a high to feed the inner egotist.
You can all be bought with cliche's and compliments.
You all give and accept gifts of self-portrait filled lockets.
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