The Orange Butterfly

Photo Credit - Clemmesen

I remember the smell of the wet dirt as it rumbled its way down the hill. It left a poignant lingering in my nostrils. The ground I stood on trembled as the earth shook under the enormous weight of the hillside collapsing. The thrashing and crashing was like an amputation without anaesthetic; arms were torn off trees and birds flew from the slaughter. [Read more...]