Had this vision of the future. It was filled with a communities of people who spoke in twitterese. They viewed their blogs, open mics and photography as their life's work and their 9 to 5 as a necessary evil. Success is getting off the plantation. Everybody was counting down.
There was a these souls walking under a beautiful black sun, eyes a flame. Sharing tales of their escape and messages from the North star.
We huddle around the water cooler, warming our hands with stories of publishers returning calls and concert dates. Dreams are fire.
When one left the plantation. It was like we were all half way there. It made the electronic cotton lighter, backs ached less, vision got clearer.
I see the route for my escape. It's a five year plan, but should keep me and my family out of servitude for generations.
When I close my eyes, I see stars I need to follow out of here. There's joy in this journey and thorn scarred fingers make great fairytales.
photo: taken with iPhone 3Gs Hipstamatic app (John S, Pistil)
