Hello from the future

It’s two hundred thousand years later And I think about you Where you roamed, what you saw, what you felt How you lived. I look at my hands, and notice that they’re so pristine. Yours must have been bruised, and maybe the lines that run across your palms were darker. Hello from the future. We’re

Jungles of Cambodia

Is it white heaven or green hell? The water droplet glides across a green leaf and falls into the ground as if it knows what it’s doing. It’s over 100 Fahrenheit weather and my mind is clouded with steaming and scorching fog. Forehead throbs with painful memories that become ever so pleasurable and vivid with each