Red dirt roads and blue clay that led to turquoise days all properly affected by the violet skies and rainbows appeared everywhere throughout the land preserved by the people native within.. it was an ecological paradise and everyone had a muse..the sky.

They were lonely figures.

Trying to find ways to express themselves. Writers, Artists, Painters, Sculptors… It was Utopia destined to crumble and fall.

After all,

They got lonely.

“finding your muse in someone else is killing me” they’d say. it’s so un-permanent.” and joke around.

But it was fundamental after all.

The could go anywhere in their lands.

And that was a whole lot of everywhere to explore and leave with bounty of experiences.

Not Nothing, at all.