Prophecy...5 liters...
"Garrett stays like that, stoic and watching the fire build and die between adding branches to the flame as the moon climbs in the sky through a sea of stars. Garrett considers his surroundings before he lets his mind wander. Those who drank it all up stared at a dim sky with scant pin points of light. They were dull, artificial lights made by satellites and passing planes. They dared to call that polluted sky scenic while that stale sky stood over a vista of towers and slums. They choose life or death for one another at the end of a gavel and on the whim of placing coins in passing trays inside their holy places. They would have had the nerve to call us all savages."
"Garrett remembers and begins to whisper the words he once spoke aloud to Elizabeth as she leaned against his chest in the field where they spent so much time together. “Our ancestors had everything and they chose to throw it all away, their conveniences became their horrors and their endless parade of excess became the noose they hung themselves from. Still, there were those who chose to drink cocktails and listen to the violins, the ones who chose to play pretend as the ship began to sink. Knowing there was no place for the likes of them on the life boats they decided to make the best of death because they convinced themselves that fighting for a place on those life boats was beyond their reach. That’s us, here, in this stupid village. We’re dining on bones, digging into the marrow, Liz, and we’re going to pay for that one day, sooner than we can imagine.”
