M is for Monsanto, M is for Malicious and Malevolent
Bruno, Saskatchewan: A town where farmers make their peace with nature Percy Schmeiser planted here, using the purest spirits as guidance to plant his seeds and breath the soil that gives us all commonality and stability. Here his seeds grew, stretched in the sweat from decades of dirt and plight, resting with the strength of stars that calmed them in the daunting night. For decades they whistled at him until the silent slit of night; it let him know they appreciated all he'd done, and if that wasn't enough to make him smile the whole way home, they'd bow to him as his shadow disappeared under the bending red horizons then posing for him in the pictures frames of grated kitchen windows so he could watch them play til' dawn. There was something magical about this yellow haven: The camaraderie. The commitment. The circadian calms, almost as golden as a Mayan throne. The reflection like lightening in the sky; it was connections to magnetic