—–
“Well… there they are. Martian boos in equal parts black and white, amassing above poor little Tungaske from the east, buildings seemingly numbered for conquest purposes. City limits threatened to become cemetery limits; no one left to live here.
“Only the west can save them, switching dawn to dusk. Bigfoot.”
And so it went in the small Canadian hamlet. Artists, thank gods for artists.
Sunklands 