Dear fast trackers,

There they go, on there mighty black horses. Floating through space without any remorse, no mirror of reflection, what crime hides behind them mirrors? Are those that go too quick without reconciling decisions in the moment, leading to greater choices, doomed in there fast tracks? What a thorn advanced technology can be when boons are turned into yellow moons.

Who’s fault is it remains the question since when one suffers from walk-ins taking over improperly, crime is interlinked, making it all more then just chaotic, it simply all boils up in the end, like magnets attracts them ties can no one escape the ramifications of everything that leads up to a karmic tie, even if this is played behind the scenes of the innocence of Others.

What could be worse? A dark star fader or a light sword projected in ones bed? A dragon in the sky? Are you kidding me, you flying high? I must be sober, since this fine wine is killing me slowly, who would have thought oxygen could make one high all the time.

Mighty is the beast that breaths fire.

The road to healing is a blessing in disguise.

The Ganja man.

And good luck,

I’m simply here for assistance.

Join the art studio if you dare or feel for some truth-slumps



First road trip

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