The folly is made more

I hear my name, raw as a child’s emotions piercing the ephemeral architectural creation, these lofty edifices that stipulate the expanse and limitation of my city. The fantastic skyscrapers shudder and the earth upon which they rest shakes. But the stupor continues,

The ascent proceeds rapidly but not without my noticing a loss of force; the impetus subsides. I am in a strange land, unable to engage with my eyes what lies beyond the barren shores, an impenetrable Wall of China composed of verdure arm-to-arm stretches all along. They raise their arms into the high sky, either praising the celestial canopy or asking for praise, as they seem to march forward, vanquishing the remnants of golden soil, bulwark against the waters that insignificantly cut through this endless desert of green.

The topography ostensibly monotonous begins to change tacitly. With the brevity of the blink of an eye, the ground is swept from underneath me as I am thrust onto a strange firmament.

travel up the river, strange inhabitants, settle due to shipwreck. love hate.

It has been a long stupor