We are in search of electrical vines to swing ourselves out past the barrier reef of our imagination. If only, we think, if only we could swing back into the dark of the past and fix those things we now know are wrong, it would prevent this spectral future from havoc. But we touch our toes with our eyes instead of our fingers because no one wants to admit the discrepancy of now.
Light by Nic Bettauer
Words by Hank Cherry
