In the distance, there is the faint sparkle of a tender stream, which glides over the terrain, gracefully licking up the bright air and polishing the speckled love-turns of the emerald foliage. An attractive gazelle is frolicking through the fields of joy, sniffing cocaine through a straw. Whilst the steady kneading of the stream fills the ears of all who behold, the crystal sun opens up the creases in the sky’s pillowy surface, expos- ing its genitals and their ravishing wonder- ment. Thousands of exposed snails rain from the marshmallow-like clouds, absorb- ing the fresh scent of rosemary, lilting in the summer breeze and petulant earthwash.
As a king may rise from his throne, the great sequoias rise up from the dusty earth, spinning wildly and spraying leaves everywhere. To the north, a humble farm conceals the screams of cows being rather ferociously milked. Mmmmm creamy.
Numerous buttheads sprout from the ground nearby a supple pond, reflecting the sun’s arrows and darting to and fro like fish, or Norman’s dad’s eyes. Unlike the se- quoias, the buttheads spin gracefully and subtly, with a banal expression on their py- retic faces. Manito florins sway from side to side, giggling and laughing like the little shits they are.
A dark mass lurks on the horizon, suck- ling its young. This dark mass happens to be a forest. It is so dark that even the sun cannot shine on it, or rather chooses not to. If one were to venture into the forest, one would enjoy the smell of burnt hazelnuts.
On the other side of the horizon lives the ocean. As its name suggests, it is an ocean. However, what it lacks in earth is made up for by its sheer amount of water. It is as vast as the seven seas, yet as small as a small frog. It holds a huge amount of things:
• Fish
• Sharks
• Whales
Some describe the ocean as a very large bit of foil wrapped over a potato. Is this how you would describe it? If you would describe it any other way, write it in this space with this pen: “PEN”