The herdsmen

This is a story about some of the experiences that Frossa had had near the High-Caves, that is, before the river Clyde. It was a most interesting but dangerous time because the muddy patches were deep and your clothes and shoes grew heavy. Frossa had to find ways to be cleansed time and time again so as to avoid her clothes and hair from hardening and becoming useless.

The landscape repeated itself and it became increasingly difficult to navigate. Frossa had to rely on her own sense to direct her onwards whilst the landscape appeared to contradict her intentionally and to want to lead her back into the heart of the land.

All and all it is a frightening, confusing place and you do well to cross it as swiftly as possible. I suppose the most disturbing thing about it is that it is full with masses of people who stopped there to listen to the whispers of the trees, who indulged in one or another of the concerns they heard, and who have not since made efforts to come out of there.

The land is barren and many people have resorted to eating their own limbs at times of great hunger. As Frossa passed they called out to her to try this delicacy of theirs but fortunately she kept her hood over her head, her eyes lowered and her pace steady.

This is a story about crossing that place.

Cypriot Herdsmen

So much potential defused. So little possibility. 

They weave a roof of smoke and they keep smoking incase it dissolves. Keep up the fight.

A hierarchy of ‘ultra men’ with no real relationship to women. Maybe they talk about sex all day and they think they are the Ones but there is no such address. There is no maturity and no growth. They think they are liberated individuals and at the same time they take no responsibility. 

Sometimes they think they are insignificant individuals and they do not look to the sky to see that there is no such race. They are not all like that but the ones she cares about are.

Such de-capacitating lies about Manhood, about women. It is sad to see the guts of your men rot from the toxic fuse and their minds melt a green and oozy yellow. It is sad.

I have not seen a clear night in a long time. I see dust on people’s faces. I breathe it in through my nose and my lungs are made heavy. I want to be rinsed inside and out. I want to breath the fresh air and dress in clean and comfortable clothing. Where will my heart rest and plant scentfull flowers?