The Ancients.
Earth, wind. The ancients. Loneliness, silence in the places of men. Tell me with distant voices.
Majestic ancient creatures. In the ground like old monuments. From the soil like monsters. In a dusty afternoon countryside, where the sun crashes into the reddish dirt, these creatures lie almost still. Extrapolating the details. Stressing the wrinkles, the holes and the dark corners of some ancient olive trees.
