The Lord of the marsh… Such an
imposing frame! A fireless dragon of sorts… Limbs like sequoias on the waters,
jaws a peaceful garden of weeds.
What a noisy beast, walking on
this primal earth!
Mum Triceratops: “You wake
up my baby again, and I'll disembowel you, with my own horns!”
Your dream: being
a discreet beast... but HOW?
DNA: the instructions that
turned you into that massive monster...
Your brain… By a neck, you
lost the evolution game.
In your grave, your dream
replays the final meteorite rain, your puzzled skeleton, the tale of our
dawn.
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