In the ruined city of Bizarre, the sweet scent of girl children seeps through the shadowy dusk, wafting as whispers over the scorched fields, calling forward the smudgy smiley sister faces nestled now between the hands of restless elder ghosts. Beyond the land of Bizarre a train whistle blows its inconsolable cry calling to that lone left girl picking in arched barefooted care through fields of sharded bone. Struggling for balance stumbling under straps of backpacked belongings carving cankered sores into still soft shoulders as she tumbles toward the Town of Know.
