Ivies

Driving by locked interstate around dusk through back roads, difficult when eyes see different colors. He saw the green lush vibrant grass, dew around it, mist lining it, and fog by the feet of trees, a six trees line up five to one, and another lone tree close by that dwelled more trail by its feet.

He did not see hills, heart attacks, he saw the mountain from a far. He knew the swamps were glades. That roads were the small ones only. Not to look at the sun. To await cold morning and post dusk breath.

He liked the small light furred animals. He had a habit of kicking the other ones.

They stationed away from their mountain and never talked about it and spent time looking through their guns' heat scanners.

Nature was doing its phenomenon. night parts. Para towering, a fulfillment to thin plaster and ivy walls that kept showing up everywhere. A reclination from a tanks line and a hovering jets line for emergencies. Two lines that could be replicated into smaller drones and foot work.

He wasn't going the steps with a notice, wanting to see less over time was drive.

Leather jacket, boots, and tactical wool, and snow pants, arctic shades, walked a few minutes distance, took a few minutes of sight, and went forward.

Looked like a coma, a comment on what's to follow, a comet to that post tank winter fest they had to undertake, a karma, a knife affair, him and the persons at land scape borders. A comment to remain, a remainder to stack. He hoped for lights from where he was. Knife to the skull, something he shielded the environment from. Knife to the side, and silencers, were lifted, an urban carriage.

Short quick story, nothing steam and gas light. Something fast, he wasn't hoping for a dawn or learning to spot green dinosaurs only and saving the space for hands on duality.

Shadows fell, hope left, sides ached for sheds, softer lights. Many felt at world distance. Hr did not want things to cave. Darkness nighed. He was hoping it wasn't him. It must've meant someone else he thought, 'meant all' perhaps. It felt like a duty.

He took more moments for himself. Borne showed up and started moving closer by the shadows. His team at the ruins of a walled city moved forward towards stirring up closer view.

He had a reluctancy. A moment. Does it 'matter'? Are sentries functioning at 102? Did he tower right? Was there a left set up close? He seemed unhappy. He wasn't. He was thinking of what type of magic was permitted in their vicinity. Nature items did not work well he thought. He had to walk through. Replacements for magic aren't very kind, especially around construction, around notes, and atmosphere. School versus residue, residence versus matter, candle light versus cauldron. Alternatives are usually scaled, and hid. At no matter, material or element, paper is easier gain than play, color is a loss.

Before you die don't forget to program, a call not uncommon in minor scale cities transitioning to vertical farms. Wire linking to mediate short heat waves. A lot of neon sights. It was a night city nonetheless, with a night stealth at terraces and rooftops. Food was okay, places were too busy. Connecting was difficult.

Living in a night city wasn't a journey, a journal wasn't needed. Tech was neon, tv was green, like board games. I had my heart out at the weather every night. I couldn't tolerate people. I liked those who knew food.

Shoot straight forward. You don't need a gun for that. It was night. Notes from the other worlds. Animals knew it, most learnt not to take into affairs and silver threads. Walls were on display. They were too sentient. The non sentience environment was in shocks.

Flickers of memories kept life covered.

"Are you working on new species or something?" 

"No."

Many were hoping old continentals would not repeat.

How to spot dinosaurs, you find them away from stars and shiny things. Mostly at wetlands, where you're not looking to share heat, water is never hot enough where they're from. 

Trem, Maggie, was the girl to dap with 'chemistry', and Nora Ai Hall, fig and garlic person. Natalie Cork, residential, preferred modern solution to do with houses and card boards.

Trees ivied in the apartment block where they lived with Emmy Lira from her tab.

He wasn't in love with 'her'. Shoot her in the face was a thing of the past. He wasn't visiting for a vegan sandwich, third vegetarian was a travel. He was clocking, he moved past to translate, to ai. It smelled of wooden floors. Ai helps start the song to maintain, it wasn't cinematic.

It had a nice lighting about it.

A memory for a tunnel of you. Unlike the woods, going underground was the toll of that area.

He did not like them that much. They did not like their neighbors. Flying astral. Being nice, to know, is a skill. Showing up was crows, tree branches and snow. Night reflections misted less covers.

To the girls, who hid in the plain blue neon light brick building with big yellow and white trees, small campfire sites from far away were foreboding, like spamming a hospital for nurses - I wouldn't mind living in a hospital for 2 years, had to make sure they had internet first.

It wasn't a snow fight, with moss covering all the black, dark and uv spots. He left all the paper clip memoirs of 'it's' neighbor's arctic snow fox fight before stepping in. kept sun light dew notes of borne and line shredders at the back. 

Interstates became disposable, it was a craft, out of the woods where shine abounds, where night glows familiar. Past meadow grounds.

Tree mist kept levels terrained.

It wasn't seasonal, it was day light related.

Solstices and equinoxes were excluded.

Many writings were 'moonlight shaded'. Moonlit. Moonstoned. Moonwelled. And kill mooned.