Damian Mark Whittle

Green Machine

Green Machine

Green Machine

Once, long ago, the sky belonged to the trees. With the change of each season, their leaves made new patterns across the clouds.

Then the pylons rose with their lines of humming metal.

The trees and pylons both spoke through their forms, shapes and sounds. The air was filled with the vibrations of wood and steel, each determined to  be heard.

And they wondered ‘How will they ever understand?’

Eventually, after many years had passed, they found that they could comprehend one another. In learning the other’s language, both found that they were changed. They were now machines with leaves.

Damian Mark Whittle

This entry was published on August 12, 2015 at 3:40 pm. It’s filed under Digital Art, Flash Fiction and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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