A Father's Journal

[Diabl0658]

Its been a long time since I had access to paper, and money to buy it. And time to write upon it. Perhaps tomorrow I wont. Perhaps we will be here longer than I think.

I remember trees, briefly. Not like the sickly looking willows of the 98th Ring, but leaves verdant and green like emeralds. Is that why they called it the Emerald Hills? And how quickly we passed them by 10 years ago, and I have yet to see of their like again in all my life. Now it is sand, and ash, and storm. Occassionally there are bushes, cactus, and other such things. They are more beautiful than the foul gutters and crumbling alleyways of home, but il always think about those trees, and how we might never see their like again.