Ghosts

Know this. Behold horses, rain and storms, muddy river banks and fields of dark clover among the Reeds. A pristine breeze, America's shore and the mud on the dead after a battle. Paint the canvas, old boots and classic cinema, warm blood of the infants, the mental paralysis of the elderly, crestfallen and dying, observe, unmoved. Ghosts have a fragile beauty. 

Data and oil. A sky made of dreams, plaster and crystal clouds to mesmerize the space-tourists. While you wait for life, it shall pass you by. Do not wait.