A farmer works the dirt along the treeline with a Farmall. Overhead and to the West, a flock of starlings in a liquid formation. When he was a kid, he could watch them fly all day. Now he can only look down towards the dirt of an Earth that holds no promise, but luck.
A farmer works the dirt along the treeline with a Farmall. Overhead and to the West, a flock of starlings in a liquid formation. When he was a kid, he could watch them fly all day. Now he can only look down towards the dirt of an Earth that holds no promise, but luck.
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