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Last Five Years — E.S. Wynn
In your life, there is a dream. The dream.
The journey to that dream is written upon this wall, written and carved, impressed element by element through time and splashed ink. This is a prophesy, a prophesy of the future, of the present and of the past viewed through the dirty lenses of a nonconsensus reality, a spell of semi-sense spoken through words more light than sound. On this wall are cast the tools of fate, the markings of an understanding only gained through the journey, only gained through the pursuit of the dream.
In your life, there is a dream. The dream.
This is the journey.
The journey to that dream is written upon this wall, written and carved, impressed element by element through time and splashed ink. This is a prophesy, a prophesy of the future, of the present and of the past viewed through the dirty lenses of a nonconsensus reality, a spell of semi-sense spoken through words more light than sound. On this wall are cast the tools of fate, the markings of an understanding only gained through the journey, only gained through the pursuit of the dream.
In your life, there is a dream. The dream.
This is the journey.
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