Some ambient-lit place at dusk, with corn plants silhouetted against the glittering night sky, a cornucopia of herbs and vegetables filling the air with their aromas, someone's arms around my waist, his beard scratching my cheek as he kisses it, knowing somewhere near are people we made, sleeping.
_________________
"Such is the Frailty
of the human Heart, that very few Men, who have no Property, have any Judgment of their own.
They talk and vote as they are directed by Some Man of Property, who has attached their Minds
to his Interest."