Tomorrowland

spin coquina crusted yarns about the sandy roads that disappear into horizons. I imagined cool green tunnels through the magnolia trees adorned with bruised blossoms and indifferent prehistoric birds. These were the stories of how his friends would make their way in this scrubby ward of Crackers and Carnies, fishing with dynamite, carving agency from the landscape with a rusty dredge barge fueled by a wit pickled in Grannies special water.