Colourless, powerless, lifeless we appeared to them. Cloyingly gray, sickly and weak. Palefaces they called us...+3

Smoky oil. Hot metal shards. Assembly lines, print rolls, greasy pinions. Feeding the punch-clock. Industry sketched in black and white.+1

Wind and waves. Wandering clouds. A quiet lighthouse. A steaming teapot. White sails and a blue horizon. A heart longing for distant shores.+1

Smells like beer. Not freshly drawn, but disgustingly stale and sticky-sweet. Upsets the stomach, and wearing it feels like a hangover. :(+1

Your embrace. So powerful and inviting. Savage... just a bit. Your warmth. Your comfort. Your shelter. Deeply-rooted. Homeward bound.+1