In this piece I am exploring the idea of birth. I am bore by a triceratops on the moon to a rainbow crescendo. To celebrate my birth the prophet Jeremiah incinerates defunct confectionery in a bonfire. However, the joy here is short lived as a naughty zebra carries the embers in an egg cup and uses them to tarnish a beautiful snooker trophy. Gutted. Nearby some corduroy dungarees sit, a fabric which I consider to be at it's zenith.
I sit, a new born infant innocent to the world, and gaze into a moon pond. I look upon the image of a dying Mike Baldwin and wonder what God wrought when he made the world so sad
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